ANAND VARMA AND THE BRILLIANCE OF THE MINUSCULE

Biologist and photographer Anand Varma captured a hummingbird drawing nectar from a specially-crafted glass dish in a lab at UC Riverside. His uniquely creative visual studies of diminutive creatures quickly captured the interest of National Geographic magazine, where he continued to publish stories—including coverage of hummingbird locomotion, honey bee behavior, parasites that control insects, and large carnivorous bats that dwell in Mayan temples in Mexico. Photo: Anand Varma

Interview by Prasenjeet Yadav

Photographs by Anand Varma

Anand Varma is a nature photographer who specializes in documenting life from the macro perspective: From mind-controlling parasites to hummingbird biomechanics. Through a combination of his deep knowledge of biology and his uniquely creative approaches to documenting minuscule creatures, he has revealed stunning details of species that would otherwise be hidden from the naked eye. 

Varma’s ghoulish image of a ladybug controlled by a parasite landed the October 2014 cover of National Geographic magazine for his first story, “Mindsuckers.”

Varma began documenting the natural world as a photo assistant to David Liittschwager, and would publish his first story, “Mindsuckers,” for National Geographic magazine in 2014. His first article was a bit of a win: His luminescent and ghoulish image of a lady bug consumed by a parasite would land, appropriately, on the cover of the October issue of the magazine. The article was so well received, many wondered what he might do next after accomplishing what most photographers aspire to for their entire careers.

But Varma continued to surprise everyone by designing new technologies and narratives to showcase the stories of less charismatic, and largely tiny species like honey bees, carnivorous bats, hummingbirds and jellyfish.

Anand's highly creative approach toward helping people grasp the science and splendor of diminutive creatures has earned him a World Press Photo award for Best Nature Story. He was also named as a National Geographic Emerging Explorer, Civic Science Fellow, and a Media Innovation Fellow to advance visual storytelling possibilities. Along with creating these visually powerful stories, Varma also focuses on diverse ways to disseminate his work to larger audiences using multimedia. His recent endeavor resulted in a stunning traveling exhibition on the life cycle of jellyfish, which first opened at the Franklin Museum in Philadelphia in autumn 2021. Varma also works tirelessly in support of science, running workshops worldwide to teach scientists how to be more visually literate.

I met Anand Varma for the first time in 2015 when he was visiting the Western Ghats of India with his family. Within an hour of meeting, we were already trekking in the Nilgiri hills, and I knew I had made a friend for life. Over the years, he has gracefully managed a balance between being a great friend and a fantastic mentor to me. So it's my pleasure to interview him for Exploration Connections.

—Prasenjeet Yadav

PRASENJEET YADAV: What is your origin story as a photographer—your first memory of a camera, first image, first job as photographer and your first story?

Anand Varma’s studies of jellyfish were presented in a spellbinding display of video and live jellyfish in the “Jellyfish Revealed” exhibit at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, which opened in autumn 2021. Here, Anand feeds brine shrimp to jellyfish, as he explains the diet of these delicate creatures to children attending the exhibition opening. Photo: Rebecca Martin

ANAND VARMA: The first memorable photograph I took was of a garter snake I found in high school.  I had borrowed my dad’s Nikon Coolpix digital camera and was exploring the woods outside of Atlanta with my friend Gene.  We spotted the snake sunning itself in a patch of leaves and I decided to see how close I could get to it.  Surprisingly, the snake didn’t move as I approached and I was able to snap a close up within inches of its face.  The photo itself was nothing special, but what sticks with me is the reaction of my friend standing next to me.  He was so excited, gesticulating wildly and exclaiming over and over how cool it was that I was able to capture so much detail in the photo.  It was the first time I realized that photography could be a way to share the joy of discovery with others.  From then on, our hikes in the woods became treasure hunts for natural wonders that we could photograph and show our friends and family back home. 

It wasn’t until college that I realized I could make a career out of documenting science and natural history.   I had the opportunity to assist National Geographic photographer David Liittschwager the summer after my sophomore year.  Working for him showed me that as a photographer, I could pursue my childhood dream of exploring the world and learning about nature. 

PY: How do you identify visual storytelling opportunities and think outside the box?

AV: First and foremost, I want to surprise my audience.  This can mean working with the underdogs of the natural world like parasites or bats.  Or it means finding novel ways of showing familiar subjects like honeybees and hummingbirds.  Many of my story ideas start from conversations with scientists.  For example, both my parasite story and hummingbird story started out as collaborations with friends from my time as a biology student at UC Berkeley. 

PY: How important is creative vision to communicating science—what role does it play?

AV: Creative vision is at the heart of reframing how people think. People have certain assumptions, both good and bad. Creative vision is key to getting an audience to think about science in a different way, and to give it their renewed attention.

“The first time he described putting hummingbirds in a wind tunnel to study their flight performance, I knew I had to photograph it. I never imagined anyone did such a crazy thing! “

The subjects I photograph have often been studied and documented for many years by scientists, but they simply haven’t been presented in a way that captures the imagination of the public.  So I read scientific papers and interview scientists looking for untapped visual potential in their research.  A good example of this is Chris Clark’s research on hummingbird biomechanics.  The first time he described putting hummingbirds in a wind tunnel to study their flight performance, I knew I had to photograph it. I never imagined anyone did such a crazy thing!  (Editor’s note: The hummingbird video above was shot with a high speed camera that captures 3,000 frames per second—100 times faster than the naked eye can see.)

PY: How do you overcome hurdles, maintain resilience, and avoid burnout on these highly technical and challenging projects?

Anand’s friend, marine biologist Dr. Clare Fieseler, views his video of the alien-like jellyfish growth and regeneration at his Franklin Institute exhibit last year. Photo: Rebecca Martin

AV: It took me many years to recognize that my work is cyclical.  I start each project with a long research phase where I try to learn as much as I can before attempting any photography.  Then I grapple with how to execute the photographic ideas that arise from that research.  Finally, I refine those ideas and experiment with how to share the final story with the world.  Each of those phases has its own unique challenges, but they also work out different parts of my brain.  If I need to, I mix up the order of these steps.  For example, if I feel like I am in a rut with the research, I can take a break and play with cameras and lighting.  If I hit a roadblock with the photography, I can revisit the research, or start sketching out what the larger story will look like.  If the whole project seems like it has hit a dead end, I can pause and pick up where I left off on another project or take a break entirely for a little while.  When all seems hopeless, I take solace in knowing I have been there before and survived just fine.  If it wasn’t hard, it wouldn’t be worth doing, right?

PY: You don't come from a visual storytelling background, so how did you figure out the aesthetics? 

AV: I didn’t grow up wanting to be a photographer so I didn’t spend much time looking at photographs.  I was lucky in a way that my first big assignment was on parasites because I really didn’t have much of a reference point to work from.  There had been some scientific documentation of the subjects I wanted to photograph, but it was clear from the beginning that I had to take a fresh approach in order to capture the attention and imagination of National Geographic’s readers.  I had to carve a new path and define for myself what I wanted my photography to look like. 

Varma faced some new challenges documenting the carnivorous false vampire bat in Yucatan, Mexico. These mammals of the order Chiroptera, have a 4-foot wingspan, and live amidst Mayan temples where this individual heads out on its nocturnal hunt. Varma would suffer from huge, infected blisters from rigging cameras to document the bats unknowingly in Poisonwood, or “Chechem” trees.

 At the time, I didn’t have a clear idea for how to accomplish that.  I actually tried to learn x-ray photography, but quickly abandoned that once I realized it wouldn’t work for insects.  My editor Todd James pointed out that National Geographic was planning on using graphic novel style illustrations to accompany my photographs.  So I decided to go down to the local comic book store in Berkeley and think about what it would take to make a photograph look like a graphic novel.  I decided the common theme of all the covers on the shelf was a dramatic background that drew your attention to where the action was happening.  Next, I went to the art supply store to pick up materials like water-color paints and construction paper to experiment with creating different artificial backgrounds.  I packed it all up and headed out to the first parasite lab.  I had no idea what I wanted the photograph to look like, I just knew it had to look cool and it would help to have a dramatic background. 

From there, it was all about experimentation and iteration.  Trying out lots of ideas, and evolving my approach based on what worked and what didn’t.  Looking back, I see a clear influence of the Japanese animation and film noir I watched as a kid, but I don’t think I was conscious of those inspirations at the time. 

“…doggedly pursuing an idea can sometimes blind you to unexpected opportunities that arise.  It’s a delicate balance between committing to a plan, versus being open to new ideas.”

I tried to replicate this aesthetic for my next story on bees, but it immediately became apparent that film noir was not the right fit.  So it was back to the drawing board with endless experimentation to try and discover a new approach that felt fresh and interesting.  I try to invent a new look for every story, although each is influenced in some way by the last.  

PY: How do you know when to stop and when to change your approach? How do you know you got the shot?

Anand Varma using high-speed camera equipment and visual effects to film honey bees at UC Davis.

AV: I almost never know when to stop.  It tends to be when I have to get on an airplane and even then I cut it close or change my flight to keep working on a photograph. It’s just as hard to know when to change my approach.  Persistence and creativity often feel in opposition.  Who wants to be a quitter when the going gets tough?  And yet, doggedly pursuing an idea can sometimes blind you to unexpected opportunities that arise.   It’s a delicate balance between committing to a plan, versus being open to new ideas.

The time I know I have made something interesting is when I can’t stop looking at a picture. I’ll go to bed and then get up in the middle of the night just so I can turn on my computer and stare at the image again.  That’s usually a good sign. 

A young honey bee emerging from its hive.

PY: This kind of creative endeavor can tend to be isolating. How do you deal with it?

AV: The loneliness is the hardest part.  I don’t mind carrying a heavy pack or working all night.  But spending weeks or months on end cut off from the people you are closest to is difficult to sustain.  It is so much more fun to work with someone who is invested in the same project so you can celebrate the successes and commiserate in the failures together.  I have realized that choosing my collaborators is as important to my work as choosing the subjects.  It also really helps to have a creative mentor who can relate to what you are experiencing and keeps you from going too far into the dark hole of self-doubt. 

PY: Is there anything you'd do differently if you had to do this all over again?

AV: There have been some really hard, lonely, depressing times.  But I learned a lot from my mistakes so I can’t say I regret making them.  I love where I have gotten to in my work and my life and I’m not sure I would be here without the difficult parts.  I didn’t prioritize my friendships and relationships in the early years of my career and I feel sad that I wasn’t more available at that time to support people I cared about.  I’d like to think that experience has helped me find a better balance today of pursuing my personal dreams while also being able to support others. 

PY: What is the next frontier in your endeavors?

AV: I’ve spent most of the last ten years thinking about the technical aspects of photography.  There is still plenty to learn on that front and I am trying to learn more about microscopy and camera motion control.  But I think there is a much broader, more interesting frontier beyond the technical aspects of photography.  I want to learn more about how images are delivered to audiences.  In other words, once an interesting photo is captured, what is the most compelling way to share it with the world?   I’m specifically interested in becoming a better writer and learning more about immersive exhibit design. 

In addition, I’m starting a project called Wonder Lab in Berkeley, CA. It is a hybrid space at the intersection of science, photography and education where I hope to invent new ways of visualizing the natural world and inspire the next generation of science storytellers.

You can follow Anand Varma on Instagram and check out his website.

Author and photographer Prasenjeet Yadav is based in Bangalore, India, when he’s not documenting wildlife across India and in other locales in Asia. You can connect with Prasenjeet on Instagram.

Interested in having award-winning photographer and educator Anand Varma present the art and science of his brilliant work for your audience? Please contact us.

Anand Varma explains the science of jellyfish growth and regeneration to young visitors at the opening of his gallery exhibit, “Jellyfish Revealed,” at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia. Photo: Rebecca Martin

GLEB TSIPURSKY: MASTER OF RISK MANAGEMENT

"Tsipursky is a rare hybrid: An internationally-renowned behavioral scientist with a unique talent for finding and fixing real-world problems.” —Tim Ward

Interview by Tim Ward

The business book, Never Go with your Gut, seems a counterintuitive mantra for a business guru these days. But the best-selling author, Dr. Gleb Tsipurksky, has extensively researched the kinds of dangerous cognitive biases and decision-making errors leaders make when following their “gut.” From an immigrant childhood (he and his family came to New York from Moldova), when he first experienced cognitive biases as a kid with an Eastern European accent, Gleb has built a global reputation as a thought leader and advisor for corporations and organizations—helping them identify the threats posed by their blind spots, and pinpointing missed opportunities. 

In fact, Tsipursky is a rare hybrid: An internationally-renowned behavioral scientist with a unique talent for finding and fixing real-world problems. He is the CEO of the “future-proofing” consultancy, Disaster Avoidance Experts, and the author of the aforementioned book, Never go With Your Gut: How Pioneering Leaders Make the Best Decisions and Avoid Business Disasters.

Tsipurky’s expertise comes from more than 20 years of consulting, coaching, and speaking and training for mid-size and large companies ranging from Aflac to Xerox and non-profits ranging from the Columbus Foundation to the World Wildlife Fund. His research background as a behavioral scientist spans 15 years in academia, including seven as a professor at Ohio State University. His dozens of peer-reviewed publications have appeared in well-respected scholarly journals such asBehavior and Social Issues, Journal of Social and Political Psychology, and International Journal of Existential Psychology and Psychotherapy. 

Gleb lives in Columbus, Ohio (Go Bucks!), and in his free time, he makes sure to spend abundant quality time with his wife to avoid his personal life turning into a disaster.

—Tim Ward

Tim Ward:  What do you see as being the biggest problem in how leaders approach the post-COVID return to the office and permanent post-pandemic work arrangements?

Gleb Tsipurksy: From my interviews with 61 leaders at 12 organizations whom I helped return to the office after the first year of the COVID pandemic, I learned the biggest problem comes from leaders prioritizing their personal comfort over what’s best for the organization. Most leaders are not comfortable working from home. Most are extroverted and gregarious; they succeeded in their careers by being around other people. They enjoy and feel in control when they walk the floors, surrounded by the buzz and energy of their staff working. They advance their leadership goals through meeting other leaders. Is it any wonder, given their experience, that they want to bring back the atmosphere that surrounded them their whole career?

“Don’t assume that what works for in-person will work well in hybrid or remote workplaces. You’ll need to revise your systems and processes in major ways to succeed in the workplace of the future.”

Most leaders don’t do high-quality, in-depth surveys of their staff before deciding on how to return to the office and their permanent post-pandemic work arrangements. They want everyone back at the office full time. Yet over a dozen major, independent surveys overwhelmingly show that only a small minority of employees—under 20 %—prefer the full-time in-office workweek. Most want either fully remote work or a hybrid schedule, and over 40% would leave their jobs if not given their preferred schedule. Forcing employees to return to the office will devastate employee retention, morale, engagement, and productivity. The efforts by many leaders to force their employees to return to the office full-time represents an egregious and self-defeating example of executives choosing to do what’s comfortable for them over what’s best for their people and their bottom line.

TW:  What makes you passionate about helping leaders and their teams avoid dangerous judgment errors?

GT: I felt a calling for this work that began when I was a child. My dad told me with utmost conviction and absolutely no reservation, to “go with your gut.” I ended up making some really bad decisions—for instance wasting several years of my life pursuing a medical career. I also watched my father make some terrible choices that gravely harmed my family as he followed his gut. 

“They must have known they would inevitably be caught, have their reputations ruined and, in many cases, go to jail. Why this seemingly irrational behavior? They were willing to follow their gut, letting their short-term fear of losing social status and being seen as failures drive terrible long-term choices.”

Then I came of age during the dotcom boom and bust and the fraudulent accounting scandals around the turn of the millennium. Seeing prominent business leaders blow through hundreds of millions of dollars in online-based businesses without effective revenue streams—Webvan, Boo.com, Pets.com—was sobering. Even worse, I saw how the top executives of Enron, Tyco, and WorldCom used illegal accounting practices to scam investors. They must have known they would inevitably be caught, have their reputations ruined and, in many cases, go to jail. Why this seemingly irrational behavior? They were willing to follow their gut, letting their short-term fear of losing social status and being seen as failures drive terrible long-term choices.

So I pursued a doctorate focusing on decision-making in historical settings at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and later taught in Ohio State University’s Decision Sciences Collaborative and History Department. I also started to present these topics outside of academia through writing, speaking, training, consulting, and coaching. Eventually, I shifted away from academia to devote my full-time efforts to advising and educating leaders as the CEO of the consulting and training firm, Disaster Avoidance Experts. I did so because I realized that empowering leaders to make the wisest and most profitable decisions, manage risks, and future-proof their organizations was the best way for me to reduce suffering and ensure that the greatest number of people flourish.

TW:  What do you believe will be the best practices in setting up successful post-pandemic workplaces of the future?

GT: Don’t assume that what works for in-person will work well in hybrid or remote workplaces. You’ll need to revise your systems and processes in major ways to succeed in the workplace of the future.

• First, survey your staff, and see what they desire.

• Informed by that survey, create broad parameters for post-pandemic work arrangements. The large majority organizations that I work with decided on a mostly hybrid schedule of one-to-two days a week in the office. They also allowed a minority of employees (10-30%) to work remotely full-time, which was successful.

• Then, have your team leaders use these broad parameters to determine the ideal schedule for their teams. That schedule should depend on how much individual work team members do, which is best done at home, versus collaborative work—which is usually best done in office.

• Next, revise your office space. Downsize it to account for much lower occupancy. Then, reorganize it to be mostly collaborative—with conference rooms and lounge spaces—since teams will be focusing on collaboration in the office.

• After that, revise your performance evaluations. Abandon the typical assessment of  time spent working, and focus instead on accomplishments and deliverables as the measure of success.

• You’ll need to revise your culture. Building a culture with hybrid and remote-working employees is more challenging if you’re used to in-person interactions. It requires cultivating a culture of trust and autonomy, instead of monitoring and control.

• To cultivate a culture of teamwork in hybrid and remote teams, you need to set up native-virtual activities, such as digital co-working, which involves all employees getting on a videoconference call for an hour or two a day and sharing work plans. Then, they turn their microphones off but leave speakers on, and only turn their microphones on to ask questions. This co-working model is an excellent way of bonding in virtual spaces!

• Finally, train your staff how to divide their work effectively between the office and home. Your staff never worked a hybrid schedule before, so you’ll need to teach them. Training in effective virtual communication and collaboration is also important. These are vital skills in the workplace of tomorrow.

“The biggest risk stems from the desire of many leaders to go back to the world before the pandemic.”

TW:  While many are just emerging from a period of great risk in terms of personal health, there is an entirely new set of risks we now face in regard to business. What are the risks that business leaders are missing as they adapt to the post-COVID world?

GT: When leaders miss risks, the cause often stems from cognitive biases—dangerous judgment errors that stem from how our minds are wired and our evolutionary background. 

Best-selling author and disaster avoidance expert Gleb Tsipurksy signs one of his many books that delve into disaster avoidance, managing remote and hybrid teams, and his thought leadership on fighting fake news and post-truth politics.

The biggest risk stems from the desire of many leaders to go back to the world before the pandemic. They fall for the status quo bias, a drive to maintain or get back what they see as the appropriate way of doing things. Their minds flinch at accepting major disruptions stemming from the pandemic. That ranges from adapting to the workplace of the future, to shifts in the external environment—such as changes in the needs of their clients.

Another problem comes from the anchoring bias. This mental blindspot causes people to feel anchored to their initial experiences and information. For example, given that their whole career focused on in-person interactions, leaders feel anchored to that mode of collaboration. The same applies to other things learned by leaders prior to the pandemic.

The false consensus effect is another dangerous mental blindspot. It leads us to envision other people in our in-group—our employees or our clients—as being much more like ourselves in their beliefs and values than is actually the case. Thus, leaders are reluctant to accept the major shifts occurring in the attitudes, behaviors, and values of their employees, clients, and other stakeholders. 

A final challenge relates to a cognitive bias called functional fixedness. When we have a certain perception of how systems should function, how an object should be used, or how people should behave, we ignore other possible functions and behaviors.

“Critical for our ancestors to survive the life-or-death threats in the savanna, fight-or-flight causes leaders to make quick snap decisions without gathering sufficient data or consulting appropriate stakeholders, often leading to disasters.”

TW:  And what opportunities do you believe business leaders may be missing in adapting to the post-COVID world?

GT: The opportunities are the inverse of the risks. Forward-looking, savvy leaders aware of such cognitive biases can take advantage of the mental blindspots plaguing the backward-looking leaders to outcompete them.

For example, all 12 organizations I helped develop post-pandemic workplaces for the future, allowed workers who could do so successfully to work full-time remotely. They have done so knowing that this step will not only help retain many of their most valued employees, but also to provide them with an excellent recruitment tool to poach great talent away from hidebound competitors. Indeed, the recruitment leaders at these organizations specifically targeted the employees whose leaders forced them back to the office with pitches on the flexibility and work-life balance they can enjoy if they make the switch.

TW:  You have been working with business leaders for many years, and have written extensively on the reasons behind both their successes and their failures. Why is it that many leaders make bad decisions?

GT: Bad decisions stem from leaders following the terrible advice of going with their gut. Our gut reactions evolved from the ancient savanna environment, when we lived as hunter-gatherers in small tribes of 15 to 150 people. In the modern world, a major cause of poor decisions is the fight-or-flight response. Critical for our ancestors to survive the life-or-death threats in the savanna, fight-or-flight causes leaders to make quick snap decisions without gathering sufficient data or consulting appropriate stakeholders, often leading to disasters. Bad decisions about people in particular often come from tribalism, our gut reaction’s evolution-based drive to favor people whom we perceive to be a part of our tribal in-group, and to discriminate against those from opposing groups. The term “cognitive biases” refers to the specific ways our minds tend to go wrong in the modern world because we’re operating with a brain evolved for the ancient savanna.

TW: And then what are your recommendations as to how leaders can successfully future-proof themselves and their organizations?

Tsipurksy’s recent book, Leading Hybrid and Remote Teams, is a concise guide to managing a hybrid workforce, as well as fully remote teams of employees.

GT: First, leaders need to learn about these cognitive biases. Then, they need to assess where these mental blindspots might be harming their own decision-making about the future, and more broadly decision-making in their organization.

Doing so will provide the basis for using science-based future-proofing techniques. For example, “Defend Your Future” is an excellent method for strategic planning. 

First, decide on the scope and goals of your plan. Then, make an initial plan based on what you would need to do if the future goes as you intuitively feel it will go, and how many resources you’ll need. Most traditional planning stops here, and that’s why so many plans fail in real life. 

In “Defending Your Future,” you’re just getting started. You’ll now consider all the problems that might occur and their likelihood and impact, and decide on the steps and resources you need to solve them. Following that, consider what unexpected opportunities might arise, then decide what you can do to bring about or prepare for these opportunities, and what kind of resources it will take. Then, check for cognitive biases, informed by the assessment above, that might be impeding your effective decision-making, and adjust your planning accordingly. Finally, add all the steps and resources to address problems and opportunities, and integrate them into your initial plan. Similar techniques exist for daily decision-making, for making major decisions, for project planning, and many other areas. By taking advantage of such techniques, leaders can future-proof successfully by enabling themselves to see around the corners of our increasingly disrupted future to address dangerous threats and maximize golden opportunities.

TW:  How can leaders most effectively improve decision-making, risk management, and future-proofing skills in their organizations?

GT: The most critical first step to integrating these skills is counterintuitive: It doesn’t fit the gut reactions and mental habits of how many leaders approach “upskilling.” Research on improving decision-making, risk management, and future-proofing skills shows that the first and most important step is to get your team members to care about these skills and become emotionally invested in learning them. That’s because the vast majority of professionals wrongly believe they excel in making decisions, managing risks, and predicting and preventing future problems. 

Then, before training your team, start by showing them the kind of mistakes they and others tend to make in these areas, and the damaging consequences of excessive confidence. 

Every time leaders I have trained use the tools I developed, they witness mind-opening results that build emotional investment by their teams to develop decision-making, risk management, and future-proofing skills. After succeeding with this kind of buy-in, leaders can introduce  techniques for effective daily decision-making, as well as techniques for project planning, major decision-making and strategic planning. 

“Fortunately, research also shows how we can use counterintuitive and surprisingly effective strategies to make the best decisions in addressing dangerous threats and maximizing golden opportunities to future-proof our organizations.”

TW:  You are a psychologist focused on human behavior and organizational management. Tell me a bit about how your work with leaders and organizations is based upon scientific research?

GT: Having spent over 15 years in academia, including seven as a professor at the Decision Sciences Collaborative, researching and teaching on decision-making, risk management, and future-proofing, my training, consulting, and coaching is fundamentally grounded in behavioral science and cognitive neuroscience. Using this foundation, my writings cover the latest scientific studies on how our evolutionary heritage and our minds are wired—and that they undercut our ability to manage risks and make the best decisions for future success. 

Fortunately, research also shows how we can use counterintuitive and surprisingly effective strategies to make the best decisions in addressing dangerous threats and maximizing golden opportunities to future-proof our organizations. My work combines the above-mentioned research with more than two decades of training, consulting, and coaching experience to provide practical, grounded advice, insights, and take-aways for attendees to apply in their workplace.

TW: Can you share a bit about how people have been transformed by attending your presentations?

I have received some quite powerful feedback from executives who attend my trainings:

• One executive noted that the workshop I ran on adapting to COVID had a tremendous impact on her, her mental health, and her “ability to manage through the crisis.”

• Another executive noted that she has changed her approach to decision-making, and she was extremely grateful for the insights provided in my  training on cognitive biases. 

• Finally, a  Senior Risk Manager commented that my session on risk caused him to look at the short as well as long term solutions in ways he had yet to consider. Despite the fact that some answers were hard for him to swallow and difficult to achieve, he noted, “realistic solutions rarely fall into the easy category.” He learned that being more realistic was going to make him more effective at managing risk.

Interested in booking Gleb Tsipurksy to present or run a workshop on Risk Management for your business or to present at an event? Please contact us.

Gleb Tsipurksky’s other best-selling books include:  The Blindspots Between Us: How to Overcome Unconscious Cognitive Bias and Build Better Relationships, and Returning to the Office and Leading Hybrid and Remote Teams: A Manual on Benchmarking to Best Practices for Competitive Advantage. Gleb’s cutting-edge thought leadership has been featured in hundreds of articles and interviews in publications such such as  Fortune, USA Today, Inc. Magazine, CBS News, Time, Business Insider, and The Chronicle of Philanthropy. 

Interviewer Tim Ward is the co-owner of Intermedia Communications, a speaker coaching business, as well as an author of numerous books, and publisher of Changemakers Books.

If you would like to provide speaker training for members of your organization, contact us and we will connect you with Tim Ward at Intermedia Communications.

TIERNEY THYS: GUARDIAN OF THE OCEAN

Dr. Tierney Thys takes a close look at an ocean sunfish in the waters off San Diego, California, a focal point of her longterm research as a marine biologist. More recently, she has studied the effects of nature deprivation on the incarcerated, as well as delving into a new global project spotlighting natural fibers that don’t unleash harmful micro-plastics into the ocean. Photo: Mike Johnson

Interview by Barbara S. Moffet

Marine biologist, Tierney Thys, took one look at a picture of an ocean sunfish in graduate school and vowed to find out more about the enormous, weirdly shaped fish. She went on to tag and track sunfish around the globe and has become a leading expert on the fish. Her field research is helping unravel mysteries surrounding ocean sunfish, such as where they travel, how deep they dive and how fast they can swim.

An author, filmmaker and leader of expeditions across the planet, Thys also has collaborated on research on the effects of nature deprivation among prison inmates. Currently, she co-leads a global exploration and celebration of sustainable textiles to reduce the tremendous amount of waste generated by our petroleum-based, fast-fashion industry. Our polyester, acrylic and nylon clothing sheds billions of micro-plastics into the environment and into our food supply. This project, Around the World in 80 Fabrics, features a quilt made of fabric swatches sourced from across the planet and will star in a traveling museum exhibit, book, app and podcast. 

A National Geographic Explorer, Thys holds a biology degree from Brown University and a Ph.D. in zoology from Duke University. She recently responded to questions about her work from her home in Carmel, Calif.

—Barbara S. Moffet

“There is a growing momentum for positive change at all levels of society, and the more people I meet the more hopeful I become. We know how to reduce our impacts—we just need to find the will and work together.  From my viewpoint, we are well on our way to a very bright future!” —Tierney Thys

Thys inside the Aquarius Reefbase U/Q (underwater) habitat off Key Largo, Florida in 2016. Photo: James Fourqurean

Barbara Moffet: How did you first become interested in the ocean sunfish?

Tierney Thys: I heard about ocean sunfish growing up in California but had never actually seen one in the wild. When I entered graduate school at Duke University, my advisor—the renowned bio-mechanist Stephen Wainwright—had a tiny picture of one taped to his office door, along with all sorts of other strange critters. I kept looking at that picture and thinking to myself: that is the most ridiculous design for an open-ocean fish that I’ve ever seen. Why in the world would a fish lose its tail? I figured this fish certainly had a tale to tell and got hooked. My advisor offered me the chance to study ocean sunfish at the Monterey Bay Aquarium later that year, and I jumped at it.

BSM: They are hard to miss, living around the globe, reaching up to 10 feet in length and weighing as much as 5,000 pounds. What are their personalities like?

TT: Every ocean sunfish has its own personality and behaviors. No two are alike. Some are quite relaxed around divers, boaters and snorkelers while others want nothing to do with humans. For the most part they are a really relaxed fish, not aggressive in any way and true gentle giants.

BSM: How do you go about studying sunfish, and what has your research uncovered about them? 

TT: There are countless ways of studying ocean sunfish—all of which depend on what questions you’re asking. For example, if you’re interested in where sunfish travel, how deep they dive, what temperatures they prefer, how fast they swim, how long they spend at the surface, if they are interacting or aggregating with each other, then you can use different kinds of tags, like satellite or acoustic tags, to track their movements, behaviors and residency patterns over many months and even years. Our team has tagged dozens of sunfishes all over the world from South Africa to Japan, California to Indonesia and Galapagos. We’ve found that they can dive to 1,000 meters and then spend time lying about on the surface of the water. They don’t appear to have large-scale migrations, although generally we do see them move into higher latitudes during the summer months following temperature gradients of around 13-18 degrees C. 

I also work with geneticists to understand population structure and species differentiation, plankton specialists and oceanographers to better understand larval distribution and computer vision specialists to explore if skin pattern differences can be used to track individual sunfish non-invasively—like what is done with whale sharks, mantas and whale fluke patterns. These are just a few of the ongoing projects. I have also formed a working group to revise and update the current International Union for the Conservation of Nature (IUCN) red-listing of the family Molidae.

“Part of my work involves quantifying the effects of nature imagery and sounds on human wellbeing—particularly in nature-deprived areas such as prisons. I was inspired to work with incarcerated populations by my very accomplished colleague, Dr. Nalini Nadkarni at the University of Utah.”

Donning her first wetsuit—constructed and hand-glued by her parents—Thys developed her passion for the ocean early in life along the northern California coast. Photo: Tierney Thys Collection

I recently coedited the first academic book on this entire group (with Jonathan Houghton and Graeme Hays) entitled The Ocean Sunfishes: Evolution, Biology and Conservation, by CRC Press, Taylor & Francis. That was a great COVID project, and hopefully it can provide a launch pad for many more ocean sunfish researchers to come.

BSM: How do you relate your findings in the natural world to human behavior? I understand part of this work involves prison inmates in solitary confinement.

TT: Part of my work involves quantifying the effects of nature imagery and sounds on human wellbeing—particularly in nature-deprived areas such as prisons. I was inspired to work with incarcerated populations by my very accomplished colleague, Dr. Nalini Nadkarni at the University of Utah. Nalini and I are both dedicated to putting nature where nature is not, and prisons, particularly solitary confinement prisons, are some of the most nature-deprived habitats on the planet.

We’ve published quite a bit about this important work in the Journal of the Ecological Society of America and in Corrections Today.

“The idea for this project came about from the realization that more than 60 percent of our wardrobe today is made from petroleum. When we wash and dry these clothes, those materials release billions of tiny plastic microfibers into the atmosphere and ecosystems… in the ocean alone there are 500 times more pieces of plastic than stars in our galaxy.”

BSM: Your chief emphasis these days is on fabrics—an effort to reduce the microplastics that find their way to the ocean by encouraging the use of sustainable textiles. How are you going about this?

Sharing her findings on the effects of nature deprivation on the brain of the incarcerated—research Tierney Thys did in partnership with botanist Dr. Nalini Nadkarni—at a TED All-Stars talk in 2017. Photo: TED Creative Commons

TT: Yes, I’m super excited about this project, cofounded with my dear colleague and fellow National Geographic Explorer, social anthropologist Carroll Dunham. The project is called Around the World in 80 Fabrics, and its centerpiece is a gorgeous narrative quilt which will be part of a traveling museum exhibit featuring 80 fabric swatches sourced from every corner of the globe. The exhibit, due to open in 2025 or thereabouts, will be accompanied by a lavishly illustrated book, interactive website, app, and social media feed which we’ve already launched @ATW80Fabrics.

The idea for this project came about from the realization that more than 60 percent of our wardrobe today is made from petroleum. Just take a peek at your own clothing labels. If you see polyester, nylon, acrylic or elastane, then you are clothed in a fossil fuel product. When we wash and dry these clothes, those materials release billions of tiny plastic microfibers into the atmosphere and ecosystems—so many, in fact, that now much of the life on our planet is ingesting plastic microfiber pollution. For example, in the ocean alone there are 500 times more pieces of plastic than stars in our galaxy. That’s a sobering thought, isn’t it?!

What we hope to accomplish with Around the World in 80 Fabrics is to showcase makers and innovators, both in the field and at the lab bench, who are reviving, sustaining and/or developing myriad nature-friendly fabrics and processes. These amazing communities are working to enhance the health of the ocean and soil, and their work can act as models for regenerative agriculture, alternatives to our current fast-fashion textiles and embodiments of circular economic solutions.

This is quite a fantastic adventure, and we'd love people to join us by following the project on Instagram at ATW80Fabrics.

BSM: You also are an educator and lead student expeditions. What’s on the horizon for those?

TT: Yes, I just returned from Baja California Sur, where this summer I was with a great group of high-school students at La Ventana. We were SCUBA diving and snorkeling as part of a Putney and National Student Expedition, and I was teaching about marine biology and conservation. I adore seeing the excitement of these students and their enthusiasm and hope for the ocean world and for our future. The outdoors is by far the best classroom.

BSM: Are you still making films?

TT: Yes indeed! I’m in the midst of writing a short film for TEDed (working title: The Plastivores). I’m excited to be working again with my brilliant colleague Christian Sardet from The Plankton Chronicles and Parafilms, with whom I co-wrote The Secret Life of Plankton. 

Our upcoming short film explores fascinating microbes that are able to digest certain forms of plastics and how genetic engineering can enhance these important characteristics.

BSM: How do you juggle all of these efforts with your role as a mother of a 12-year-old and a 16-year-old? And are they interested in science?

TT: Being a mom is indeed a juggling act, but I have an amazingly supportive husband, Brett Hobson, without whom I couldn’t do my work and research. Our two wonderful kiddiumps are fairly self-sufficient and rather used to mommy traveling across the globe and then returning with many stories about the wonders of the world. They both love to travel as well and have accompanied me on numerous international journeys. Both are enamored with and respectful of science, they love being in the water and have immense compassion for all the critters and life we have the honor of sharing this beautiful world with.

“Throughout my career, I’ve come to understand that no matter how wondrous and important a scientific discovery, conveying that importance involves understanding human psychology. If we really want share findings and inspire long-term positive prosocial behavioral changes, we need to better understand our own cognition, our built-in biases, irrationalities, diverse value systems and recognize that we are highly emotional beings.”

BSM: How do you see your work fitting in to the larger picture of global conservation of the natural world?

TT: All of my work is motivated by an urgency to conserve our invaluable natural resources and lessen our environmental impacts, particularly when it comes to the ocean realm. Throughout my career, I’ve come to understand that no matter how wondrous and important a scientific discovery, conveying that importance involves understanding human psychology. If we really want share findings and inspire long-term positive prosocial behavioral changes, we need to better understand our own cognition, our built-in biases, irrationalities, diverse value systems and recognize that we are highly emotional beings. To inspire any sort of change, we need to keep these psychological aspects of humanity in mind whenever we share scientific discoveries. A large portion of my work explores how tools such as nature imagery, sound and science storytelling can inspire stewardship and positive behavior change.  

BSM: What, if anything, gives you hope for the planet?

TT: The world is bursting with phenomenal people who are passionately working to protect our natural resources. With my diverse projects, I have had the joy and honor of meeting a huge cross-section of such people from all walks of life, disciplines and ethnicities. There is a growing momentum for positive change at all levels of society, and the more people I meet the more hopeful I become. We know how to reduce our impacts—we just need to find the will and work together.  From my viewpoint, we are well on our way to a very bright future!

INTERESTED IN BOOKING TIERNEY THYS TO PRESENT AT AN UPCOMING EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

You can connect with Dr. Tierney Thys on Instagram and Facebook.

Barbara S. Moffet was longtime Senior Director of Communications at National Geographic. She lives in Alexandria, Virginia.

Thys presenting at TEDLive on Broadway. While a marine biologist by training, Tierney Thys has also conducted research on the importance of nature in human health and—most recently—on how we can produce textiles that better protect the health of our oceans and the planet. Photo: Ryan Lash/TED

HILAREE NELSON: ON BREAKTHROUGHS, LEADERSHIP, INFLUENCERS AND FAMILY 1972 - 2022

Recently named Captain of The North Face athlete team, Hilaree Nelson is a ski mountaineer who counts several groundbreaking ski descents of 8000-meter peaks among her impressive range of achievements. Photo: Nick Kalisz/The North Face

“Lynn Hill was a really big influencer before I even knew what rock climbing was. When she freed the nose of El Cap in the mid ‘90s, it really impressed me. And Jane Goodall—she is a distant relative of my mother.”

IN MEMORIAM: We are deeply saddened by the loss of Hilaree Nelson on September 26, 2022, during her ski descent of Manaslu, an 8,000-meter peak in Nepal which she had just summited with her partner, Jim Morrison. Hilaree juggled a life as loving mother to her two sons, Quinn and Graydon, and as The North Face athlete team captain, as well as accomplishing many of the most notable ski mountaineering achievements of her generation during the course of her 40 expeditions—which ultimately earned her the National Geographic Adventurer of the Year Award in 2018. Our thoughts and prayers are with her sons, her life partner, Jim Morrison, her other family members, as well as her many close friends at The North Face and in her home town of Telluride, Colorado. Hilaree has served as an incredible inspiration and a deeply caring presence for so many. Her indomitable spirit will live on in our hearts. —RM

Interview by Rebecca Martin

Hilaree Nelson is an elite ski mountaineer whose adventurous feats include climbs and ski descents of some of the highest peaks in the Himalaya and a deceivingly dicey mountain in Antarctica, as well as leading a punishing expedition to scale the tallest peak in Myanmar.

A natural athlete since her childhood—Nelson’s parents would often drop their kids off for a day of skiing outside Seattle on weekends, and she was also a skilled member on her high school basketball team—in university she began to envision a career in the biological sciences. But her experiences engaging in scientific fieldwork as a college student, combined with a post-graduation extended ski sojourn in Chamonix, France, reinforced her growing passion for being in the outdoors. And her time spent climbing and then skiing some of the most challenging runs in the Alps evolved into a transformative five-year stay. This is where her ultimate life trajectory began to crystallize.

The first woman to serve as Team Captain of The North Face athletes—a prestigious position to which she was named two years ago—Nelson’s demeanor is genuinely engaging and also reveals her razor-sharp focus. At the same time, one has an overwhelming sense that Nelson is a woman on multiple missions: While she is open to sharing the story of her achievements and the course her life has taken, she has a keen and ingrained sense of time limits required to accomplish each of the goals the day presents. Indeed, Nelson is a master juggler—she has a staggering schedule between work, hours of intense training each day and looking after her two sons, ages ten and thirteen. Of course, these are all essential traits of an athlete who can not only scale and successfully ski down 8000-meter peaks (death-defying by any measure), but who can also develop and lead an expedition: This kind of leadership presents an unimaginable array of complexities to keep her team safe—while also endeavoring to achieve physical and highly strategic triumphs in some the world’s most challenging environments.

I sat down in late May with Hilaree Nelson in her home town of Telluride, Colorado, where she was serving as Guest Director of the Telluride Mountainfilm Festival, to gain more insight into her evolution as a professional athlete and her perspectives on leadership and team building—as well as how she has tackled some of the greatest challenges in her life.

—Rebecca Martin

Nelson scales the sheer, vertical “no fall zone” of Papsura, also known as “The Peak of Evil”—a daunting 21,000-foot mountain in the Indian Himalaya. Nelson noted the dense fog posed serious challenges in determining whether she was moving up ice or snow on the vertigo-inducing terrain. Her teammate and life partner, Jim Morrison, works his way up the vertical slope in the background. Photo: Chris Figenshau/The North Face

Rebecca Martin: Who were the most important influencers for you and what were the steps you took in your life which led to your becoming a professional athlete and explorer? 

Hilaree Nelson:  Lynn Hill was a really big influencer before I even knew what rock climbing was. When she freed the nose of El Cap in the mid ‘90s, it really impressed me. And Jane Goodall—she is a distant relative of my mother. She came into my life at a young age because my mom talked about her all the time. She was someone I knew and saw on on TV and in National Geographic. She  inspired me from a really young age. It was Jane’s risk-taking, and the science and adventure that she tied together. Oddly enough, I had this teacher of physics (I took AP classes in high school), and he pulled me out of class one day and asked what I wanted to do. I said I wanted to travel, and he said I should become a scientist. So I majored in biology and chemistry. That was a big turn in my life. Choosing the sciences—especially biology—got me outside into the mountains studying ornithology and geology.

After  graduating from college, I made the decision to go to the Alps and pursue ski mountaineering. I ended up being there for five years. It very much felt like attending another university. It was there that my focus shifted from pursuing a career as a marine biologist to becoming a professional skier and alpinist.

RM: Looking back, would you have done anything differently, and do you have any specific recommendations to those pursuing a similar path? 

HN: There are always things I would have done differently. Hindsight can be a bit torturous that way. I wish I had gone into ski mountaineering with a specific intent, with confidence that my career choice was an extension of my personality. At the time it was not an accepted career in my family. I wish I had committed to it sooner, while I was in Chamonix. I was always very apologetic for what I was doing, and I wish I hadn’t been. It wasn’t until I was in my forties, divorced, and my kids were a little older, that I finally stopped apologizing for what I was doing. I finally realized I was apologizing for being me and that was not OK. 

Nelson on her successful 2017 ski descent of 21,252-foot Himalayan peak, Papsura in northern India. Photo: Chris Figenshau/The North Face

It’s difficult for me to offer advice to anyone seeking to build their own career in the mountains. I feel like my path was very unique as is the path for just about everyone I know that I climb with. It’s quite tough to make money in this field. Social media and technology have changed the sport as well. My best advice would be to have a plan for the path you want to follow. Do you want to be a mountain guide? That’s four years minimum of education for certification. Do you want to create content, share your stories as a motivational speaker or writer? Essentially, it’s important to build your skills as a climber or skier, but you also must think about the job side of it—whether it’s exploration with a science focus, or photography, or being a guide—whatever it may be. Set that intention early on, and figure out in your head your end goal. Is it related to how you are defined or your personal development? To become a National Geographic explorer, to write a book? Try and envision that trajectory.

RM: Over the years, you have participated in and led a range of mountaineering expeditions involving both climbing and extreme skiing—expeditions that unquestionably involved a high level of risk. Tell me a little bit about the decision-making process you go through when assessing this kind of risk, and the calculations you make to best ensure your safety and that of your team members.

HN: Well there’s a difference between the work you put in to assess the risk (expedition preparation) and the reality you find in the field (weather, conditions, route-finding, etc.). It’s a constant balancing act, and a very difficult tightrope to walk as expedition leader.

“When you’re faced with life and death split-second decisions it’s imperative you have a strong team that can work together to make those hard decisions. Sometimes the qualities in a good teammate—qualities that help mitigate risk—are not what you would think.”

I love the logistical aspect of planning expeditions. This is the part where you are able to do your best—from the comfort of your home—to guess at all the ways to mitigate potential risk. From pouring over Google Earth, to food prep, fuel calculations, necessary gear, proper warmth, tents, medical kits, rescue plans, communication devices, solar power and on and on.  

Nelson takes a few minutes away from serving as Guest Director of the Telluride Mountainfilm Festival in May 2021. Photo: Rebecca Martin

With that said, the best laid plans almost always go sideways at some point in the face of what you actually encounter on a mountain. That’s where leadership in terms of team dynamics becomes so incredibly important. When you’re faced with life and death split-second decisions, it’s imperative you have a strong team that can work together to make those hard decisions. Sometimes the qualities in a good teammate—qualities that help mitigate risk—are not what you would think. Empathy, communication, vulnerability, humility and humor are as important as experience and technical skills. 

RM:  What are the differences in managing risk when leading a team, as opposed to being a team member?

HN: When you are leading an expedition you are the point person for all of the logistical planning. When I led an expedition to Gasherbrum II years ago, I had a baby at home, and was still nursing. I was not remotely the same tactical, focused climber at the time.  I made a huge mistake by forgetting to plan for the climbing food on the expedition. We had our basecamp food taken care of through our outfitters, but it’s always the responsibility of the expedition leader to plan out food for when the team is above basecamp. We managed to collect enough food from other teams at basecamp but it was an incredibly awkward endeavor. You have to coordinate what everyone is working on. 

“Easily one of the most risky situations I’ve ever been in was on that ridge high up on the peak Hkakabo Razi in Myanmar. We were on the edge of not having sufficient equipment and food, and had a total team breakdown.”

As the leader, often the trip idea comes from me, so if something were to happen to anyone on the team, there is a huge responsibility, because that person is there at your behest. This is a huge emotional stress that is not felt when you are a team member. I felt that most keenly on two separate expeditions to Papsura in 2013 and 2017. These trips were very dangerous—especially 2017—and it was very difficult for me knowing my teammates were with me solely because of my obsession with the mountain. 

Contemplating their Papsura climb and ski descent from the team’s basecamp in May 2017, Nelson’s second attempt to summit and ski this rarely-climbed peak was ultimately successful. Photo: Jim Morrison

RM: What was one of the most risky situations you faced while on an expedition, and how did you work your way through it both mentally and physically? 

HN: Easily one of the most risky situations I’ve ever been in was being on that ridge high up on the peak Hkakabo Razi in Myanmar. We were on the edge of not having sufficient equipment and food, and had a total team breakdown. It was the trifecta of a potential catastrophe. Fortunately, I had support in The North Face climber Emily Harrington—a team member—who is the one person I pushed for on the trip. I could talk through the situation with her, and then it was a matter of compartmentalizing—taking that serious emotional distress, and putting it in a box to deal with later. The challenge was how do you keep leading until everyone is off the mountain and safe? 

Compartmentalizing is required on all expeditions, and this was an extreme case of it. I packaged up the thought, “I’m not good enough,” and put it away, and then I came back with more authority and confidence than I had going into the expedition. I literally put each hour into its own separate little expedition—just to get through each segment and then check it off, and it worked really well all the way through the trek out. Taking things step by step forced presence. So, you are no longer focusing on things that happened in the past, or what might happen in the future. You are entirely focused on the present.

“It’s crucial to give people their own stake in the leadership of the team… I recognize that I am not the best or most knowledgeable at everything. Therefore I must find space for others on the team to lead with their expertise.”

RM:  What role has mentorship played in your expeditions and your life—both as a mentor and mentee?

HN: I am a visual and hands-on learner. Early on I always wanted to be the least experienced person on an expedition. When I was young, I always wanted to find the boys who skied better than me and then I would try to keep up. As a mentee, that’s how I learned the best. Over the years, I realized I was shifting into the mentoring position, and I really enjoyed it. I am not soft and fuzzy [as a mentor], but I like the notion of learning by being there, and by doing things. It’s been fun being a mentor to Emily Harrington and others. And there’s never a point where you are actually one or the other [mentor or mentee]—if you think you are, then you are missing something. Mentoring is a two way street. The energy of mentees can be the missing ingredient, and it was so energizing [to have it] on Lhotse with Emily Harrington, when we traversed from summiting Mt Everest in 2012.

RM: What do you believe are the most important qualities of successful leadership, particularly when you are leading a team in somewhat unpredictable conditions?

Hilaree Nelson, with her sons, Quinn (left) and Graydon, prepares to climb the via ferrata along the canyon walls that rise above their historic hometown of Telluride, Colorado. Photo: Jim Morrison

 HN: Being observant, a good listener, and a clear and succinct communicator are the most important things that are key to successful leadership. Being observant is most relevant to expeditions, because you are trying to read people’s physical well-being, as well as the subtleties of the mountains. It’s crucial to give people their own stake in the leadership of the team as well. I recognize that I am not the best or most knowledgeable at everything. Therefore I must find space for others on the team to lead with their expertise.  You are deducing their strengths and recognizing they are better than yourself at certain things—and you help them succeed in their endeavors. Then people have strong roles within the team, which ultimately leads to the cohesion and success of the team. And they enjoy doing it. You look at who is stronger that day, how to put rope teams together. And you take into account their adaptability, and those with the skill sets to do the various tasks where they can succeed.

RM: Aside from being Team Captain of The North Face athlete team, you are—most importantly—the mom of two boys. Do you find that these two roles complement each other and help you better manage the challenges you face on the job and at home?

HN: I guess I look at the athletes team at The North Face as a family. And I am lucky as a mom to have this whole group of highly functioning friends, as well as friends from my [earlier years]. My mom had friends, but it was hard to make time for them in that world. This group of friends from The North Face all have successes, challenges and injuries. I have known Emily Harrington since she was 23, and she is now 34 and I have seen her progress—and knowing Jimmy Chin so long—helps roll through changes that happen everyday as a mom. Being a mom is really hard and really incredible—very much like tackling a big mountain climb. I am constantly drawing on my experiences in the mountains to help me with parenting and vice-versa. They most definitely complement each other.

You can learn more about Hilaree Nelson on Instagram and on her website, as well as on The North Face website.

Photo: The North Face

CHEF EDUARDO GARCIA: A BLEND OF CULINARY CURIOSITY, FORAGING, AND NOSTALGIA

Chef Eduardo Garcia, who forages and cooks off the land where he and his wife live in southern Montana, celebrates the day’s work over a meal of elk tenderloin with sautéed kale and polenta, topped with a redolent nettle chimichurri sauce. Garcia, who was deeply influenced by flavors of his father’s homeland, develops and sells Mexican-inspired spices and sauces through his company, Montana Mex.

Interview and Photographs by Becca Skinner

When I first met Eduardo Garcia in a small bakery in Bozeman, Montana, I knew a few standout things about him: Most of those things revolved around his love for food, fire and friends. Now I realize that our initial conversations were, in fact, all true. If he has the opportunity, he will gladly invite the whole neighborhood to a smoky fire in the backyard, passing around plates of stinging nettle chimichurri on top of elk tenderloin. 

Fast forward, and six years later Eduardo is now my husband, and our lives in southwest Montana revolve around two major seasons of life: Garden season and hunting season—both of which put food in the freezer from less than a 50 mile radius around our home. We go to the grocery store like everyone else, but the importance of the story behind the ingredients in our meals goes deeper and further than it would just by picking up a zucchini at the local food coop.

I sat down with Eduardo this spring amidst our hectic daily schedules, to discuss his life spent in Montana, his upbringing, and where the journey of food has taken him as a professional chef and public speaker.

—Becca Skinner

At home in his kitchen in Gallatin Gateway, Montana, Chef Eduardo prepares a meal with fresh ingredients he and Becca Skinner largely foraged from their garden or close to home.

Becca Skinner: Can you tell us a little about yourself and what drives and inspires you?

Eduardo Garcia: By trade, I’m a professional chef, but over the past seven years I’ve also been working as a founder and chef for my national food brand, Montana Mex. I also do some public speaking, and am a voracious omnivore. I love nothing more than sharing my zest and love for food, and how food fuels every facet of our lives.

BS: You grew up in a small town in Montana—like, really small—not even 400 people. How did living so rurally affect your relationship with food?

EG: The community I grew up in involved a lot of agriculture, and so naturally friends in the community all seemed to be ranchers or farmers. That sort of involvement with food has a chain reaction for everyone, regardless of whether someone takes the baton on growing their own food or not.

Early evening sun illuminates the permaculture garden that surrounds Chef Garcia’s home in Montana, providing fresh ingredients for six months of the year. A variety of fruits and vegetables are also canned, dehydrated or frozen.

 Although our community grew small plots of annuals or veggies, there was mostly a lot of attention put into the meals and the healthiness of the food being cooked. I was aware of this focus as a kid.

My mom would cook these adventurous, fun meals. It was never anything commercial or processed. When I say adventurous, I mean things like teriyaki tofu over brown rice! It was before the time of organic grocery stores or food co-ops being popular, so she was ahead of her time.

When I was in my teens, my sister, brother and I started to cook, and when my dad came to live with us from Mexico is when I started to see food as a kind of celebratory, artistic expression. He would spend hours cooking traditional Mexican dishes, salsa and other things.

BS: Is there a standout dish from childhood that you remember?

EG: With my mom it would have been chicken soup—just throwing the whole bird in the pot. We would pick meat off the bones and put tortilla chips and sesame oil on top. Given an opportunity, it’s still the way I cook chicken soup. We had miso soup for breakfast, too, though it was less celebrated. But with the chicken soup, we would eat it for days in a row.

BS: I knew you’d say miso soup. You still love that for breakfast!

EG: That’s true!

In a way, curiosity around food and cooking almost completely rules out that it’s going to be perfect, so it takes some of the pressure off. If you’re following a strict recipe word for word, it’ll probably turn out great. But if you incorporate curiosity, it’s a fun and joyous act that allows you to come to a place of learning.

Eduardo Garcia amidst his permaculture food forest in Gallatin Gateway, Montana.

BS: Moving forward, what kind of experiences as a young adult led you to pursue the work of a chef?

EG: Cooking and flipping burgers at the age of 15 at the local hot springs, for sure. I’m still cooking for others, though it looks a little different now. With our food brand, Montana Mex, I see it as an opportunity to feed people on a much larger scale, and introduce them to the curiosity and fun in food with the spices and sauces. 

BS: I wanted to talk about curiosity, because I know firsthand that’s one of the initial qualities I’d list about you. You’ve always been interested in taking a closer look at the natural world and with the sights, sounds and smells of cooking. What role do you feel that curiosity plays in food?

EG: In a way, curiosity around food and cooking almost completely rules out that it’s going to be perfect, so it takes some of the pressure off. If you’re following a strict recipe word for word, it’ll probably turn out great. But if you incorporate curiosity, it’s a fun and joyous act that allows you to come to a place of learning. From the beginning of the intention, whether it’s foraging for thimbleberries or making dinner at home, it can be fun—all the way through to the first bite. Curiosity enriches everything!

BS: Foraging for ingredients in the woods is a focus for you—and something that seems to bring you a lot of joy. Where did you learn to forage?

EG: In a gentle way, foraging came about through boy scouts. Seeing the progression of a caught fish or a winged bird turn into a meal, is where I started to put two and two together. It was the first time that I thought about food not just coming from your kitchen.

BS: Do you have a favorite ingredient to forage? 

EG: Trying to choose a favorite is hard. I’m still very much at a novice level, too. Anything wild is always a treasure! [Editor's note: Stinging nettle, oyster mushrooms, morel mushrooms and huckleberries are only a handful of the things you can forage in Montana.]

BS: For someone who is interested in being a chef specializing in outdoor cooking, do you have some key suggestions?

EG: Stop cooking indoors. Once you stop doing that, you’ll have to start cooking somewhere.

BS: What suggestions do you have for people who live in urban areas?

EG: I suggest investing in a charcoal or wood grill and start to cook outside that way. Also, a lot of city parks are set up with grills that you can use. Just start sleuthing around for opportunities that might exist if you don’t have access to a backyard or patio with a grill.

BS: In the past few years you’ve been giving a lot of presentations as a motivational speaker, both about food and also about your injury. What are the most challenging and the most joyful parts of that job?

EG: The most challenging part is traveling frequently and being away from home, although that is on pause with the pandemic. Other than that, I’m trying really hard to bring 100 percent of myself in connecting with the audience. It’s so important for me to make a personal connection through the talks, so I can be next to everybody. It’s one of my main goals: To make sure the presentation is an intimate and honest conversation right from the heart. Keeping that human connection alive is the most important thing.

It can be so liberating to speak from the heart and to stand for something like living life to the fullest. It’s one thing to try and convince a group of people to buy something or to grasp an idea, but it’s another thing to share your passion for life—I love that part.

Grilling salmon on a cedar plank in the back country of Montana: Outdoor cooking is a key element of Eduardo’s culinary approach.

Of course, losing my left hand and becoming an amputee at 30 is the first thought that comes to mind regarding challenges, but it’s not the only life experience that changed my trajectory: I was on a backcountry elk hunt when I was electrocuted by 2400 volts from an unprotected power source. The injury derailed my life and career for two years through surgeries and medical treatments. But 10 years later, looking back at it, I was in the process of pitching a television show right before I was electrocuted. I was already on the path of sharing my love of food in a broad way.

My injury brought a dose of humility that we can all probably use coming out of our twenties. “Right reason, right motive, right cause,” became a motto for my life in making sure I was on the right track. The injury caused me to be far more intentional. There’s the cliché, “Live every day like it’s your last.” And then you have a life and death experience and you physically claw your way back to life, and, yet, the change of mindset is not something you come back from—it is born of the event. I feel the gratitude now. Working with all the nurses [during my recovery] makes me want to try my hardest, so I can always make them proud that I’m taking full advantage of the life they saved.

The other experience happened about six years ago, sitting on the banks of the Yellowstone River eating catfish tacos. Someone mentioned the word “permaculture,” and I didn’t know what it was. Fast forward, I’ve torn up three-quarters of an acre of our property to plant a permaculture food forest. The idea of permaculture is to mimic how things grow in the natural world by creating natural systems through companion planting and different layers (ground cover, shrubs and trees, as an example). After 15 years of cooking, I felt myself grabbing for straws and trying to remain passionately connected to food in ways I had felt before. But putting so many years into it, those receptors felt dull. It’s continued to bring love into my career as a chef and to embrace food as it is, and where it's found, instead of trying to make it perfect.

BS: What is the one thing you believe everyone should know how to cook?

EG: I’ve received so much joy from making tortillas after my dad passed, because it brings me back to my Latino roots—brings me back to my culture. It doesn't matter what the dish is, but learn something that is deeply steeped in your family’s story. Anything with a story makes food more interesting!

Garden to table is one of the core elements of Eduardo Garcia’s culinary philosophy. Here, his wife—photographer Becca Skinner—gathers the day’s harvest from their abundant garden. Photo: Eduardo Garcia

INTERESTED IN BOOKING EDUARDO GARCIA OR BECCA SKINNER TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

You can find out more about Eduardo’s love for cooking and food by following him on Instagram or try some of his spices and seasonings at www.MontanaMex.com.

Becca Skinner is a photographer (and wife of Eduardo) based in Gallatin Gateway, Montana. Connect with Becca on Instagram and Facebook, and check out her website.

PRASENJEET YADAV: STORIES FROM A LIFE IN THE WILD

Tigers tussle for their territory in the forest of Ranthambore Reserve in Rajesthan, India. Yadav witnessed the entire dispute, lasting several hours. Eventually, one of the big cats would slink away in defeat.

Interview by Mary Anne Potts

Photographs by Prasenjeet Yadav

Prasenjeet Yadav is a National Geographic photographer and Explorer, which is just to say, he is incredibly talented and motivated to change the world. A scientist by training—he has advanced degrees with subjects like biotechnology, biochemistry and immunology—Yadav brings his critical thinking to storytelling. 

Born and raised on a farm in Central India, he embraces the challenges his country faces, while trying to convey the importance of conservation. His focus on wildlife and nature in India’s most remote locations requires exceptional patience and a large dose of physical stamina (in recent years and in 2020, he spent months at a time in sub- zero temperatures in the far reaches of Ladakh and Himachal).  It’s through this rigor and drive that his photography appeared in the July 2020 issue of National Geographic magazine, in an intimate look at the lives of snow leopards. Not bad for a kid who grew up with tigers passing through his yard. 

—Mary Anne Potts

Tigers paid frequent visits to Yadav’s parent’s farm where he grew up. Located in central India, roughly 50 kilometers (32 miles) from Nagpur City, he enjoyed a childhood immersed in nature. Yadav would go on to study tiger ecology in graduate school, before pursuing a career in nature photography, and has had several close encounters with the highly endangered species.

Mary Anne Potts: As a scientist and science communicator, you seem to have had the ideal childhood, completely immersed in nature—you even had tigers visiting your yard when you were growing up?

Prasenjeet Yadav: I grew up at my father’s farm in the middle of the jungle of central India, so we still literally have tigers coming and walking on our lawn. People used to go to see tigers and see wildlife… and I just had to step out of my house! I’m blessed that way. 

MP: Were people excited and happy to see tigers so near? Or were they scared and upset about it?

PY: There were no resident tigers around the place while I was growing up. And other villagers were a few kilometers away. So when tigers came around, we were completely isolated. They used to move around our property, as it was adjacent to a tiger dispersal corridor. I know that it’s a completely different feeling seeing a tiger from a safari jeep versus living in an isolated place with your family with a big predator walking right outside your house. I don’t think most people have experienced that kind of fear. 

MP: How did you end up studying science? What life experiences led you there?

Yadav at work documenting endemic species in the mountain valleys of the Western Ghats, India. If you would like to book Prasenjeet for your event or conference, contact us.

PY: This was all I knew about and all I wanted to do. Sorry, that’s a very non-spicy answer! My bachelor’s was in chemistry, zoology, and biotechnology. And my master’s subjects were immunology, biotechnology, biochemistry. At that time, there were only two institutes in the country that could give you a conservation biology degree. And they were alternate years. The year I was there, the degree wasn’t available so I decided on a master’s in molecular biology because I was always interested in biology. And then I figured out a way to apply it to ecology. When I started doing my research, I joined a lab in Bangalore that uses molecular techniques. They study DNA to understand tiger movement and

populations. So I’m more of a DNA guy, and the DNA I was studying was wildlife DNA.

Even with the storytelling I do, I follow the same model that I used to follow as a researcher. You have this assumption or a hypothesis—this is what people think, this could be probable.

MP: Do you see any similarities between your scientific studies and storytelling?

PY: If we are talking about storytelling that is more nonfiction--reportage, journalistic storytelling—I think that it’s a complete parallel. Even with the storytelling I do, I follow the same model that I used to follow as a researcher. You have this assumption or a hypothesis—this is what people think, this could be the probable. But to understand or come to a conclusion, you go out and you do your background research. You go out and collect data. After you collect data, you analyze it. And after the analysis, you come to a conclusion. That is exactly how I approach my stories.

MP: Is there something extra that comes into storytelling that’s maybe more artistic or emotional for you?

PY: Absolutely. This is the outer structure, what I fill into it is beyond data. It’s more emotions, experiences, and that is something not entirely science- based. Science is about facts which are supported by carefully collected and analyzed data that lead to a logical, hypothesis-tested conclusion. So 

science is objective and it has to be, for its own reasons. But storytelling does not have to be objective. I follow this model, or structure, because I like to believe that I’m telling important nonfiction stories. I want to show reality to people. I’m having a tough time making people see the reality, believe it, and act on it. What makes this reality unique, are my personal experiences and emotions.

A Great Hornbill brings fruit to a female’s nest in the Western Ghats mountains of India.

MP: I think that’s a helpful perspective on storytelling.

PY: Because I do it this way, none of my stories are 20 days, 15 days, or one week. I want to tell first-hand stories of the natural world. I don’t want to do “helicopter storytelling.” I end up working on these stories at least for a year or more because wildlife and natural history stories require this amount of time: Where I spend enough time to actually experience, see things firsthand, to actually learn from it, so that I’m not telling a story of someone who told me something. It’s more of, “This is what I experienced, this is what I saw.” And I find those stories more meaningful, at least for now. I have produced several stories so far, and all of them have been these long-term projects.

I spent close to five years focused on pure academics and scientific storytelling—my real strength was in storytelling. I enjoyed talking about the research and helping people understand it more than actually practicing it. And this interest grew more and more over the years.

MP: How do you find the funding to do a year-long story? 

PY: Because of my research and academic background, I have an edge that I can write grants. I can take funding to do these projects out of grants. I also collaborate with scientists, and that helps me a lot with logistical support. I receive support from the researchers and scientists with whom I collaborate. And in return, I give them my work for free for their academic and educational purposes. It’s not a perfect model, but that is how I’ve been working so far. I’ve started to receive some funding from individual donors, which has been crucial in difficult, technology-oriented stories, which have larger budgets. Also, commissions every now and then help move things forward. 

MP: How did you make the transition from scientist to storyteller?

PY: I spent close to five years focused on pure academics and scientific storytelling--my real strength was in storytelling. I enjoyed talking about the research and helping people understand it more than actually practicing it. And this interest grew more and more over the years. At 23 or 24 years old, I just decided to quit my potential Ph.D. research at one of the most prestigious research institutes in India. I thought, “I’m gonna make my living out of photography and storytelling.” And that’s how the transition happened. It was a moment, a decision, without planning. I jumped into the water; I had to figure out how to swim. One thing leads to another. I started working with different people and on different stories, and slowly things started shaping up for me. Honestly, I feel things worked out for me as I happened to do the right projects at the right time. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to take the route I took, given the obvious risks. 

Yadav documented freshwater river systems in the valleys of India’s Western Ghats mountains. Infested with leeches, venomous snakes, and constant rains, these landscapes presented him with a host of challenges. If you would like to book Prasenjeet for your event or conference, contact us.

MP: And how long did it take to get those first stories and assignments ?

PY: When I was a research student, a person from the BBC research team had come to India along with a local producer friend of mine. They were looking for stories in India for their BBC series called The Wonders of Monsoon, and I ended up pitching a few stories. Six months down the line when I quit, literally the same week, I got contacted by the team saying, “You know the idea you had pitched? Would you be interested in helping us film that?” So I think I was blessed I got a job with BBC through the local producer from India, who is a good friend of mine, immediately after I was out of academics. I spent a few months with BBC on that.

MP: How is conservation storytelling a unique challenge in India, and why is it so important?

A Golden-backed frog prepares to spring into a pool of water in the Western Ghats of India. Originally found in Sri Lanka, this species was later discovered across the Western Ghats, as well as other areas of the country.

PY: Conservation storytelling is difficult because India is one of the developing countries. It is a country with a population of 1.3 billion. We are growing at a rate of 15 million people every year. We are going to plateau in 2035, and at that time the predictions show that our population is going to be around 1.62 billion. And we are still a country where the majority of the population is living on the edge of poverty. 

In a country like this, it’s difficult to talk to people about climate change when they don’t know what they’re going to eat that night, or where they are going to live, or will they have jobs or not. So, trying to convince them to do something that is environmentally friendly? It’s very difficult.

MP: You have recently been on an expedition to an island off of India that would maybe be an interesting thing to talk about?

PY: Yes, sure. So it’s more of a geopolitical story, but I want to focus more on the ecological aspect of it. That is, an island, in the middle of the Indian Ocean. An island of seven square kilometers [2.5 Square miles], it’s a tiny island, uninhabited. But it is home to a species of hornbill which is found nowhere else in the world but just on this island. It’s called the Narcondam hornbill—named after the Island.

I was accompanying four of my really good biologist friends—one a botanist, one seed dispersal ecologist, and two hornbill ecologists. I went there with them essentially to do a reconnaissance trip to see what the story is. But the interesting part is that it is the most remote part in the country, and the most difficult place to get to. You need a lot of permits from the government of India to go there. The Navy drops you a few kilometers away from the island because there is no soft landing. And you are in these rubber boots and you go onto the island and the ship is like, “Okay, see you after a month!” And then you are completely isolated with no phone and no connectivity, no electricity, on this one small island for a month.

MP: How did you like that level of isolation?

PY: I enjoyed it for the duration of the month, as there was so much to explore and learn on the island! This was the first time I have ever been on the island, so it was good! And I’ve been working in the Himalaya where it is equally isolated, but in a different sense: Working there is very physically draining. I crave isolation at times. Now with Covid-19, I’m speaking to my friends who are like, “you know what? This isolation in my apartment is killing me!”  And I’m like, “Ah, it’s not that bad!’’ 

On the island we had a team of five people, so I wasn’t alone. But because I was focusing more on the documentation of hornbills, I spent most of my time by myself.

While in the Western Ghats of India to document the region's unique SkyIslands, Yadav captured this image of a green meteor above an ocean of lights from Mettupalayam, a small city in southern India. The green hue is a result of oxygen heating up around the meteor, combined with the mix of minerals ignited as the rock enters Earth's atmosphere.

MP: Let’s talk about one of your most published photos—the meteorite. It looks like you stayed up all night to get it, and yet that is not the reality at all. What happened?

PY: My good friend and National Geographic photographer Anand Varma and I were taking a road trip in India. I was focused on a story on Sky Islands of the Western Ghats at that point, and I wanted a time lapse to show that these mountains are not only isolated by a deep valley, but also floating in the sea of urbanization. At 2 a.m. we found this location and we started this time lapse. Our cameras were set at different times and different intervals. And out of 1,000 images that the camera shot, each image was a 15 second exposure, with a 10 second gap. One of those images actually ended up capturing this meteorite. 

The lucky part is not that the meteor showed up in the picture, but where the meteorite showed up in the picture. 

I think I was the luckiest photographer on the planet for those 15 seconds. Out of multiple cameras we had, only one camera caught it properly as they were each shooting on different time intervals. We got lucky, but also we were the only two photographers on that mountain doing the time lapse at 2 a.m. in the morning. 

I’ve been interviewed by so many people about the picture because it won one of the National Geographic contests and it went really viral around the world thanks to all the funny memes around it. And somehow, people kept interviewing me, and I said, “I went out and I was lucky to get this picture.” The lucky part is not that the meteor showed up in the picture but where the meteorite showed up in the picture. If you pulled the meteorite out, trust me, there is no other composition that makes more sense than this. But now, it is a composed image of a beautiful meteorite.  

MP: And did it look to your bare eye the same way it looked in the image?

PY: I was sleeping! We both were sleeping! We were sleeping on the side of the road next to the car.

MP: So did you wake up and rush to see your cameras?

PY: No! We woke up, and Anand saw the time lapse. Anand had three of the cameras. And one, a truly wide-angle camera did have a streak of this meteorite in it. So he did capture it, but the meteor wasn’t prominent enough. Then in the afternoon when I was reviewing the images and that’s when I was like, “Hey, something’s wrong with my camera!” And then he comes and he sees it and he’s like, “Looks like something showed up in your camera! Dude, this is a meteorite!” That’s when we realized that we captured something really interesting in the camera.

MP: That’s so cool. Well yes I can’t wait to see that again. You just were published in the July issue of National Geographic—both your photography and as a subject in the story—in an incredible article about snow leopards. What is the premise of the story?

PY:  I started working on the story back in 2017, and a very good friend of mine who is a scientist and a National Geographic explorer, Dr. Kulbhushansingh Suryawanshi, worked on snow leopards, and I always wanted to collaborate with him. There was a collaboration grant from National Geographic to fund explorer teams to go out and do a field project with a story. We applied for it and received funding to research and document snow leopards in India, Mongolia, and Kyrgyzstan. 

This image of a female Snow Leopard and her two cubs was captured by a camera trap set up by Yadav in 2018 in the higher climbs of the Himalaya in the state of Himachal Pradesh.

When I started working on this story in summer of 2017, it was essentially about mountain goats and snow leopards. Since then, until literally the end of March 2020, I was just working on that. 

MP: Can you think about an intense moment you had in the field, and how you resolved it? 

PY: Quite a few, I would say. When I went into the mountains to do the story on snow leopards, there were many nights in snowstorms without the necessary warm gear,  which was tough. Initially when I started doing the camera trapping, I had no clue how to do it. And I started doing it with one of the most elusive species in the world—the snow leopard! And somehow I had that borderline arrogance—or perhaps just confidence—in my mind where I thought, “I’ll figure it out.” 

Yadav followed and photographed this snow leopard in Himachal Pradesh for several days—only yards away. He would find the old male's remains the following year, after it fell off a cliff while in pursuit of prey.

But to do that I used to walk out 15 to 20 kilometers [9 to 12 miles] away from my base camp in late afternoon to set up my traps and then it would take me and the team of local field researchers a couple of hours to set them up. And then I would do the light testing at night. Around midnight we used to walk back 15 to 17 km in waist-deep snow in sub zero temperatures. I wouldn’t recommend anyone to do it. It wasn’t fun, I would say.

MP: What would you say is the greatest challenge in your work?

PY: It’s the ever-evolving business of storytelling—at times I find it hard to keep up with it. I think I’m still that romantic storyteller who just picks a story and does it for years because I want to do it in the best possible way. But the industry is very competitive, and you have to constantly be on your toes to stay afloat. In my case, me vanishing for years to work on one story does impact my business. 

I grew up following the work of photographers Nick Nichols, Steve Winter, Tim Laman, Christian Ziegler and Charlie Hamilton James, who have actually produced these long stories, and they speak about the importance of long form natural history storytelling. Now times have changed so much, that even the organizations which used to support this kind of work are having a tough time continuing the model. 

But I still spend months, years in isolation, out of connectivity, doing natural history storytelling from a country like India. I think it’s really difficult because I have no connection with what’s happening in the West—and the global storytelling scene—when I am in the field. I barely get to speak to other people. And I didn’t have a peer group in India when starting out, which made things really challenging. 

MP: How did you navigate these hurdles and what helped you move forward?

PY: Yes, this wasn’t easy and the path had to be carved but by no means did I do it by myself. I have been blessed with some incredible mentors and supporters who have gone out of their way to help me move forward over the years. 

Here in India, my research advisor, Dr. Uma Ramakrishnan, and my colleagues Dr. Kulbhushan Singh and Dr. Robin have been the greatest supporters while I was making a switch from academics into science communication. 

Rhacophorus lateralis, a tree frog found only in two small valleys of the Western Ghats—in Kerala and Karnataka—at an elevation of 800 - 1200 meters (2600 - 3,900 feet).

After I transitioned to photography, I received a grant from National Geographic. Then I happened to meet National Geographic photographer Anand Varma when he was visiting India for a vacation, and we became friends immediately. Over the years he tactfully switches roles from being a close friend to a trusted mentor, and in this way he helped me grow as a photographer and storyteller. Later I met Rebecca Martin who had started the Young Explorers Program at the National Geographic Society, and she noticed me and my work. I think she pushed my work in NatGeo more than anyone over the years, and that helped me to continue producing better work. 

Last but not the least, I have a wonderful family who gave me freedom early on: While they told me they wouldn’t be able to support my ventures financially, they assured me that if I fail, I can fall back on them. I think that’s my biggest privilege. 

Over the last couple of decades, we have realized the importance of scientific storytelling. Science needs to be disseminated to larger audiences. So collaborate with scientists.

MP: What advice do you have for other storytellers who want to integrate science into their stories in meaningful ways?

PY: Every story should be accurately told. There is no excuse for not doing the right research. And if you don’t understand something, it does not mean that it doesn’t make sense. One can always reach out to people to understand things better--so you can integrate science, and reason deeply. 

Also, collaborate with researchers. We really need researchers, and they need us!

Over the last couple of decades, we have realized the importance of scientific storytelling. Science needs to be disseminated to larger audiences. So collaborate with scientists. It’s our assumption that scientists are these quirky people who wouldn't speak to you, but they do! They are realizing the importance of storytellers, so they want to collaborate with storytellers—they want to explain their work, they want to communicate more broadly.

Yadav documented the living tree bridges of the northeastern state Meghalaya, India—structures hand-woven from the roots of the Ficus elastica tree. This image of a unique two-tiered bridge was featured in his article on the National Public Radio website. Lasting a hundred years or more, the bridges provide local peoples safe passage during monsoon season when rivers swell.

INTERESTED IN BOOKING PRASENJEET YADAV TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

Connect with Prasenjeet Yadav on Facebook and Instagram. Visit his website to see more of his work.

Check out Prasenjeet’s coverage of  snow leopards in the July 2020 issue of National Geographic magazine, and his documentation of the root bridges of Meghalaya, India featured this month on the website of National Public Radio,

JAMES BALOG: THE ARTIST AS ENVIRONMENTAL VISIONARY

James Balog takes pause from scorching flames and thick smoke, as he documents firefighters during California’s devastating Soberanes fire in California in 2016. Balog photographed this event as a facet of his recent feature documentary, The Human Element, which follows his visual journey through some of the most pressing environmental issues faced in the United States.

Interview by Barbara S. Moffet

Photographs by James Balog

Say “James Balog” and you might think of ice, melting ice to be precise. His groundbreaking Extreme Ice Survey positioned time-lapse cameras around the globe to document the disappearance of glaciers caused by climate change; the resulting feature documentary, Chasing Ice, made the Academy Awards nomination shortlist and was screened at the White House. 

But Balog has always been about innovation—and documenting nature in its most dramatic and poignant moments. 

Early in his photography career he drew attention to the plight of endangered species by posing the animals one by one in studio contexts, far from their native habitats, a technique hailed as a conceptual breakthrough in wildlife photography. He followed up by capturing trees—immense portraits of sequoias and redwoods as no human had ever viewed them, often made up of thousands of tiny frames shot as he rappelled down a neighboring tree and then stitched together to form the whole.

Balog is the author of eight books, recipient of numerous awards and recently was named an Andrew D. White Professor-at-Large at Cornell University. He is a photographer, a scientist, an explorer and an artist. Photographer James Nachtwey once wrote of Balog, “He is a visionary, and his works are like sacred objects.”

Balog is working on a new book at his Colorado home these days. He responded to some questions for Exploration Connections, and we are also delighted to provide you with some excerpts from his large-format, retrospective volume due out in 2021.

—Barbara S. Moffet

Balog’s stylized studio portraits of threatened wildlife (here, an Asian elephant) featured in his book, Survivors (1990)—and in National Geographic magazine at the time—introduced a new genre of nature photography: One that has been adopted by other prominent photographers to bring attention to the beauty—and the plight—of Earth’s creatures.

Barbara Moffet: How are you faring in the pandemic? How has your daily life changed?

James Balog: It’s much more peaceful and I’m able to work on long-term editing projects that had been shuffled to the sidelines for decades. I have more focus, so I’m able to write better than before. It’s one thing to write a journal and another thing to try to find symbolic threads, metaphorical threads, energetic allusions. These will be part of a new book, The Human Element: A Time Capsule from the Anthropocene 1980-2020. I’m working on it with curator Anne Tucker from the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. 

BSM: Do you think the changes in human behavior forced by the pandemic will affect the global environment in the long run? Do you see any positive benefits?

JB: I feel lots of turbulence in lots of sectors—policing, racial justice, and the environment. The really big question is whether any changes hoped for will stick. I’m afraid I feel more pessimistic than optimistic. We know what we have to do, can see where big systemic flaws are. We have seen over and over again the entrenched financial, political, social structures that squelch change on all fronts. Embedded structures are so deep and resistant to change… I say that having been to so many meetings and conferences where so many solutions were offered, and yet I have seen none of the solutions happen. The passions that infuse groups like that could/should infuse us, but “us” is really tired. A lot of people have seen all the good ideas drain into the sand.

 BSM: Where do you think your love of nature and concern for the environment came from? Did either of your parents have that focus?

James Balog in the field on his Extreme Ice Survey, a climate-based initiative that has spanned nearly 15 years.

JB: My love of nature started when my parents would take us on camping and hiking trips. I loved to find trees and sit in them. We lived in a semi-rural area, and I spent a lot of time running around in forests, climbing trees. I became really interested in animals and how they talked to each other and I was amazed, at age 7 or 8, that animals went about their lives in their own private universes. I was drawn to them. The great irony was that the only adults who cared about them were hunters—the only way I got close to animals was when they were dead on the ground and I could put hands on them. I became an avid hunter but soon realized it was a waste. The Vietnam War was happening and I had to decide whether to go to the draft board or become a conscientious objector. It was then I decided I couldn’t kill or cause animals pain, so I decided not to kill them anymore. I did become an objector to the war but was willing to become a medic. I drew draft number 88 but for some reason didn’t get called.

BSM: When you studied communications and secondary education in college at Boston College, what did you see yourself doing with it?

JB: Education was a typical undergraduate distraction. But it’s turned out that I have been an educator a lot of my adult life in different ways. I immersed myself in geology senior year of college because I was fascinated by the landscape of mountains and how it came to be. When I went on to graduate school in Colorado, I studied geography and geomorphology. Also oceanography, which gave me the chance to spread my wings— past rocks.

I would certainly say that the Extreme Ice Survey has played a very important part in persuading the public in Europe, Asia and the U.S. of the immediacy and reality of climate change… [it] changed the thinking of moderates and progressives.

BSM: Your Extreme Ice Survey (EIS) uses dozens of cameras to document vanishing glaciers and icy landscapes around the globe. Does the project continue today? Update us.

JB: It continues in lesser form. We had 43 cameras in the field in 2008. Now we have a core of about 10 to 12 cameras plus more in Antarctica. Some sites are not time lapse; instead, I go back and shoot in the same place every few years. In fact, we wanted to get back to a glacier in France this year but couldn’t because of the pandemic. 

Through scores of trips to Iceland, Greenland and other points globally, James Balog has endeavored to create a visual record of the hastening pace of glacial melt from a changing climate. The geologist-turned-photographer captured this luminescent slab of ice being subsumed into the glacial sea at Jökulsárión, Iceland.

BSM: Has the Extreme Ice Survey sparked concrete changes?

JB: It’s an additive thing, all of the voices, energies, brains, hearts and minds add up to something. I would certainly say that EIS has played a very important part in persuading the public in Europe and Asia and the U.S. of the immediacy and reality of climate change…at least changed the thinking of moderates and progressives.

BSM: Your latest film, The Human Element, depicts humans’ impacts on the basic elements of life—earth, air, water, and fire—and introduces humans as a significant fifth element. What specifically were you trying to say with it?

JB: It’s a matter of trying to change perceptions. A weird thing about films that tackle issues is that because we’re all so desperate to effect change, people think filmmakers need to be out there talking about it all the time. I think that’s misguided. I think the key thing arts should do is dig into the world, make you look at things, illuminate them and make connections. I realized with increasing clarity over the past 15 years that environmental issues are triggered by a host of interconnected relationships.

BSM: You had a close call yourself with wildfire near your home in the mountains near Boulder. How have these more frequent and larger fires affected the Colorado skies and landscape?

JB: Yes, in 2010 I watched a huge fire burn out neighbors’ homes, we watched the flames from our deck. There’s no question the air isn’t as clean in the summer as it used to be. These days, starting in late May and going well into September, smoke from fires in the West and even Canada often turns the color of the sky an oppressive orange-brown, a putrid sludgy tan, or a pale hazy gray, all of it coming as courtesy of a hotter, drier climate.  

An alternative emerged: The cocky brashness of youth filled me with the idea that I was a good photographer—I wasn’t—and that I could continue to express my interest in the natural world through photography—and go on grand adventures besides. 

James Balog has generously shared some of the essays he has written for his upcoming book, The Human Element. Here he talks about his early days as a photographer:

When I first started working with that machine called a camera, I was a typical environmental romantic, enraptured by the natural world and wanting to celebrate its beauty and attraction, grandeur and drama. The same impulse inspired writers like Henry David Thoreau and John Muir in the 19th century, photographers like Ansel Adams and Eliot Porter in the 20th, and practically every nature photographer, professional or recreational, today. I aspired to enter the Edenic place—beautiful, untrammeled, serene, spiritual, and, for me, filled with adventures of mountaineering and technical rock and ice climbing—and put a reflection of those experiences on film.

In a photomosaic of more than a thousand images, Balog captured the majesty of the Giant Sequoia tree in Camp Nelson, California. Logistically complex, this mosaic technique would be employed by others to convey the immensity of some of the world’s biggest trees.

I first started carrying a camera—a Pentax 35 mm—as a way of recording mountain trips. Scenics and “hero” shots were the standard images. I began wanting to understand what forces and processes had caused the stupendous mountain landscapes to be. That impulse led to  undergraduate, then graduate, studies in earth science. By age twenty-five, as I was wrapping up my master’s degree, I was on track to be a professional earth scientist. Yet the thought of spending my life writing esoteric science papers left me cold. An alternative emerged: the cocky brashness of youth filled me with the idea that I was a good photographer—I wasn’t —and that I could continue to express my interest in the natural world through photography—and go on grand adventures besides. 

As Balog delved more deeply into photography, he began to encounter the two faces of nature:

Scenic beauty and the like were all well and good. Earth science brought me into a fascination with the epic natural events — earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis, landslides, and avalanches — that shape the world we see. As life went on, and this book shows, I got way more drama than I had originally bargained for. Five hurricanes. Four erupting volcanoes. The Indian Ocean tsunami of 2004. Fourteen wildfires. Countless floods and avalanches.

Nature, I realized, was a creature of two faces.

Nature, I realized, was a creature of two faces. Yes, it was beautiful and beneficent, just as the Thoreau-Ansel Adams tradition told us. But it was also violent, brutal, and destructive, at least to a human-centered perspective. If I were to be an honest witness to nature, I could hardly just go on indulging in the beautiful reverie, while ignoring the rest.  

A large-format book, Tree: A Vision of the American Forest, was Balog’s imaginative tribute to America’s grandest trees. While shooting this Texas live oak—believed to be more than 900 years old—he realized the giant form was more evocative as a silhouette from behind the scrim.

Lessons in the school of nature:

Fast forward to today. By now, I have covered well over a million miles as a photographer, filmmaker, writer, earth scientist, mountaineer, river runner, scuba diver, and a generally enthusiastic traveler. To the Arctic and Antarctic. Alaska. The Americas, North and South. Russia and Siberia. Africa and Asia. The Alps, Andes, and Himalaya. The North Pole, Greenland, and Iceland. Photographing mountains showed me the meaning of endurance. Animals opened my mind to non-human forms of perception. Trees taught me humility. Ice revealed what it means to be mortal. Wildfires showed the metamorphosis of physical matter from one form to another.     

By 2009 or so, I took the idea of tectonics one step further when, in lectures at various universities, I started calling the impact of people on nature, “human tectonics.”

Balog coined a phrase to reflect the impact of people on the planet—“Human Tectonics”:

The most costly conflagration in U.S. history at the time, the 2016 Soberanes fire in California was featured in Balog’s documentation of a planet—and climate—influenced by human activity. The tragic event would portend a far more bleak and devastating fire season for California and the West in 2020 and 2021.

During the 1950s and 1960s, revolutionary advances in earth science brought the term “plate tectonics” into use. These are the primal geologic forces inside the Earth, tugging at the rock crust of the planet, triggering earthquakes, thrusting up mountains and volcanoes. In my own mental shorthand, I eventually thought of all the forces of nature, from the geologic to the atmospheric, from the aqueous to the biologic, as “natural tectonics.” By 2009 or so, I took the idea of tectonics one step further when, in lectures at various universities, I started calling the impact of people on nature “human tectonics.”

Over the past 50,000 years, approximately 113 billion individual Homo sapiens are thought to have inhabited the Earth. Take our population today—as of this writing, 7.8 billion people—and multiply the impact of each person by their basic needs for food, water, shelter, clothing, and fuel. Multiply each person again by their desire for material affluence. Then multiply each person once more by the leverage of whatever technologies they happen to use. It equals a staggering, colossal, stupendous—no superlatives are enough to fully capture it—human impact on our lonely rock in the solar system.

Every breath you take; everything you eat; every drop of water you drink; every mile you drive or fly: they all play a part in Human Tectonics.

Stop dreaming about some impossibly faraway Eden. Be here now. In taking care of nature we are taking care of ourselves.

We’re all one:

A new concept began to dawn on me. It grew and grew during the weeks and months and years to come. It still grows to this day. Here it is:

There is no boundary, no contact zone, separating people from nature.

There is no such thing as “people” and “nature,” there is only “nature.”

Nature is composed of non-human elements and the human element.

Tied in at the edge of a moulin, Balog captures a close-up perspective of glacial melt in action, Greenland.

Classical environmentalists have long been driven by romantic reflexes and a focus on wildland preservation (still an essential cause, I should emphasize), combined with a propensity to exalt the perfection of nature and gripe about how debased humanity is. They are semi-panicked about the Anthropocene concept; to them, the idea seems to return Homo sapiens to its dominating, self-serving status, giving the “drill, baby, drill” storm troopers license to follow their most brutal instincts. I don’t see it that way. Instead, it is a way of seeing that humanity and nature are one and the same. Stop dreaming about some impossibly faraway Eden. Be here now. In taking care of nature we are taking care of ourselves.

Boiling it all down, it’s up to us:

As I said in our film, The Human Element:

“. . . the evidence shows that people are changing the world, fast. We depend on the stability of the fundamental forces of the world. An imbalance in one element leads to an imbalance in another. People are the only element that can choose to restore balance.

Our deeds are leaving their imprint in the fabric of time. The things we know we shouldn’t do, and the things we do with grace, truth, and honest commitment. As always, it’s up to us to make the right choices.”

Finally, Balog uses the medium of poetry to describe a glacier fragment he saw wash up on a beach in Iceland in this original poem, “Ice Diamonds”:

Time, pressure, atoms.

Carbon turns to diamonds below ground.

Ice turns to diamonds above.

Water and waves,

the jeweler’s carving tools,

meet the last surviving fragments

of a great glacier in Iceland.

Bergs get smaller and smaller and smaller.

Grey green sea washes broken ice

onto a midnight beach.

The tide ebbs.

Polished, no diamond like its neighbor,

they are one-of-a-kind sculptures

made by nature never to be repeated.

In six hours the tide returns.

Fingers of sea foam greedily steal the jewels.

Beneath aurora borealis,

in phosphorescent waves,

the legacy of millennia floats into the North Atlantic.

One melting drop at a time,

the diamonds add their mortal bodies

to the ever rising tide of the great global ocean.

And then, they are gone.

Glistening remnant of icemelt into a glacial lagoon, Balog captured this “ice diamond” at Jökulsárión, Iceland, on June 16, 2011.

INTERESTED IN BOOKING JAMES BALOG FOR YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

You can follow James Balog on  Instagram and Twitter and visit his websites: TheHumanElementMovie.com, EarthVisionInstitute.org, ExtremeIceSurvey.org. GettingThePicture.info. JamesBalog.com

Balog’s large-format retrospective book published by Rizzoli, The Human Element: A Time Capsule from the Anthropocene 1980-2020, goes on sale in autumn 2021. 

Barbara S. Moffet is a journalist and was a longtime Senior Director of Communications at National Geographic. 

ANTON SEIMON: CHASING NEW TORNADO SCIENCE

An iconic elephant trunk-shaped tornado touches down on the open landscape near Campo in southeast Colorado in May 2011. Photo: Tracie Seimon

Interview by David Braun

Photographs by Tracie and Anton Seimon

and Jennifer Brindley Ubl

Anton Seimon has chased storms across America’s deadly Tornado Alley for 25 years. The atmospheric and environmental scientist leads or co-leads five research projects in climatology and meteorology, but for this interview with Exploration Connections, he says, “I’ll put on my tornado hat and talk about the tornado side of things.” 

—David Braun

Its roaring circulation clearly audible, an anticyclonic tornado tracks directly toward Anton’s tornado team in Simla, Colorado/June 2015. Video: Anton Seimon

David Braun: With major weather events intensifying the way they are across the world, has your work ever been more critical? Do tornado studies fit into that?

Anton Seimon: Much of my research informs on changes in climate. We look at high-mountain environments, for example. But we don’t have compelling evidence that tornadoes are more frequent or more intense because of climate-change factors.

We certainly see evidence for changes in phenomena like hurricanes and other tropical cyclones, and they do now intensify more rapidly. When we look at the tornado database and try to make similar assessments, there are no conclusive results. 

Anton Seimon enjoys a moment of marvel over a severe thunderstorm on the high plains at Killdeer, North Dakota in June. Photo: Jennifer Brindley Ubl.

One of the reasons is that the tornado database is rather poorly developed. To verify tornadoes actually happened, you need either visual confirmation, or a damage track. When a tornado tracks through open grassland it doesn’t leave many visible marks. If it occurs after dark, you may not know that a tornado happened. But that same tornado could have caused immense destruction.  

As we improve tornado science, hopefully we can be better at predicting tornadoes and warning people in their path. That’s our major motivating force.

DB: Amateur storm chasers often help in your research. How does that work? 

AS: In my very early days on the plains, most storm chasers were scientists, so it was easy as an academic myself to make linkages to them. Nowadays, there are more than a hundred times as many storm chasers out there. We don't know them individually and hardly any of them are researchers, and they  come from all over the world. But by using social media that most storm chasers look at, we are able to reach out very quickly after an event, and find people interested in sharing their data with us.

Storm chasers see things and report things potentially very useful to science, but it is all being done in a totally uncoordinated fashion. But if we can contact, say, 30 people who filmed a storm, we may be able turn their information into scientific data.

Time and location are the two major elements we need to control for.

That’s a big task, because most people do not record the exact positions where they were, and what time they were there. They’re not recording what time their camera was turned on and off. 

Time and location are the two major elements we need to control for, so we must reconstruct them if the data is to be of any use. If we get this data, we can figure out exactly where and when people film a storm.

Counter-rotating landspout tornadoes track southward in tandem near Cope, Colorado/May 2018. Video: Anton Seimon

Doing this with multiple observers, from different perspectives, we can put together a 3-D visual representation of a storm. We first did this in a comprehensive way for the world’s largest documented tornado, El Reno, near Oklahoma City in 2013. 

DB: So the objective is to continue to build and liaise with that community, while getting the standards up to where you need them to be?

AS: Yes. There were key lessons learned from reviewing the materials that 93 individuals or groups sent to us from that El Reno case. We studied what very good data practices looked like, then published optimal guidelines on the web for how to become a more scientific storm chaser.

What’s considered good chasing practices is generally well known, and there are authoritative sites out there, and YouTube videos put together by people like Skip Talbot, that outline these things.

Phones can also be problematic: Suddenly, you may lose your signal… you are lost and no longer have information needed to navigate the storm. 

DB: I presume many lay people use their phones to film storms, like we all do to document so much of our daily lives?

AS: Absolutely. Once a storm has developed, the phone is an extraordinary resource. You can bring almost-live radar into your phone. You’ve got great road-navigation tools, you can open a map, you don’t have to have a paper atlas.

A supercell spawns a sunlit tornado near the Black Hills of South Dakota/June 2012. Photo: Anton Seimon

But phones can also be problematic: Suddenly, you may lose your signal. You’ve been dependent on that, but then you are lost and no longer have information needed to navigate the storm. 

Now, old-school chasers like myself learned the practice of storm observation before we had these incredible mobile resources. We learned a great deal just by looking at the sky to make sense of things, and navigate around the storm based on those visual cues.

A great worry now is that a younger generation of storm chasers has come up reliant on the digital tools, and that’s all they have. 

When you get very close to a major storm with 500 other storm chasers, they are all gobbling up the available bandwidth from the cell towers.

One of the things that happens when you get very close to a major storm with 500 other storm chasers: they are all gobbling up the available bandwidth from the cell towers. Suddenly you start getting data dropouts. Even though there is a cell signal and you may be able to send a text message, you can’t view the latest radar images. 

Taking a break from the chase, Anton with his tornado research team in 2019. From left: Hank Schyma, Jennifer Brindley Ubl, Skip Talbot, and his wife—Dr. Tracie Seimon. Photo: Anton Seimon

We learned from that El Reno case in 2013 that many chasers didn't realize that their cell phones were no longer updating radar images, so they had information that was perhaps 10-15 minutes old. They were navigating using their phones based on old information before they realized the predicament they were in. In this way, many people got caught.

We advocate for situational awareness. It’s so easy to get wrapped up: to behold a tornado, to actually see a storm evolve to a point where it produces a tornado. It’s an extraordinary experience. It occupies your every sense. But you need to snap out of that; you need to ask what’s going on around yourself, what else do you need to be aware of?

The greatest hazard by far that storm chasers face isn’t the tornado. It’s other drivers. And one’s own driving. 

You may want to get out of your vehicle and go and stand by that barbed-wire fence, stare out across the prairie at this amazing sight. Well, if lightning strikes down the line, that fence is going to electrocute you. So it’s about maintaining proper situational awareness when your instinct and emotion just want to focus on what’s in front of you.   

DB: Using the wider community to provide different perspectives of a storm reminds me of “The Whale Detective,” a documentary that investigates a 30-ton humpback whale that breached and just missed landing on a researcher in a kayak. The film was about trying to identify the individual whale based on its unique physical attributes, as recorded by a number of people who recorded the entire incident from multiple angles, including from the shore.

AS: I’m really interested in the whale as metaphor. I’ve likened what happened at the El Reno storm to Moby Dick, in a particular context. 

For the storm-chaser community, the 2013 tornado was the whale that came down on the boat. This tornado came down on hundreds of storm-chasers. It was a tornado with dimensions we’d never seen before, that acted in very unusual ways. Suddenly speeding up and suddenly changing direction as it expanded. We were overwhelmed by this enormous circulation. It was so large that most people could not recognize that this was a tornado; it was as wide as Central Park is long.

Then one time, suddenly it’s different: the whale comes down on the boat.  

What happened is quite analogous to the breaching whale, where every day a whole flotilla of vessels can go out to observe a phenomenon they know will occur at a certain place. But then one time, suddenly it’s different: the whale comes down on the boat. 

That’s what happened in El Reno in 2013, and unfortunately my former teammates—Tim Samaras, his son Paul, and Carl Young—were killed in the unprecedented storm. Eight people died in vehicles from this tornado, three of whom were very dear to me. There is a very emotional component in trying to understand what really happened with this particular storm

From that tragedy, we’ve leveraged a whole research program, using novel techniques and generating novel findings, and really substantial progress has been registered. 

I’d do anything to get my friends back, but in a sense, at least their deaths were not in vain from a scientific perspective. They were out there trying to get scientific data. They were a science team funded by National Geographic, and, according to Rebecca Martin, longtime director of the Expeditions Council there, that was the first time that National Geographic lost an entire research team.

DB: Your current research, you say, is an outcome of what happened in 2013. Unpack that a little more.

AS: If you can fix video location and time from multiple perspectives you can start putting things together in really interesting ways.

What is the biggest question about a tornado from human-hazard perspective? It relates to how strong the wind is at the surface. 

One would think in the year 2020 that surely this has been known for many years. The truth is we don’t know how strong tornadoes are at the surface. That lowest ten meters is where almost all the damage is inflicted, where all the human structures are, where we dwell. 

A rare, anticyclonic (clockwise-rotating) tornado tore through the open prairie near Simla, Colorado in 2015, lofting enormous amounts of soil around its funnel cloud. Fortunately, the twister passed by several farmsteads without causing damage or injury. The price of this view by Seimon’s team: A cracked windshield from baseball-sized hail. Photo: Tracie Seimon

Tornadoes have a very unusual characteristic, from a physical standpoint. It appears that the winds are maximized right down near the surface. Now that goes against physical logic, because friction is maximized at the surface, versus the free atmosphere above. 

But from all the evidence that we have, the extraordinary phenomena that are registered by strong tornadoes, what they can do, from a damage perspective—taking large vehicles and tossing them great distances, lofting them in the air, and that kind of stuff—is amazing.

Well, what type of wind does it take to do that? We’ve gotten an approximation through use of tools like mobile Doppler radar. A radar beam provides a near-horizontal slice through the storm that lets us measure the relevant motion towards the radar or away from the radar. Those motions let us take the difference and calculate the rotational wind speed; therefore we can come up with an estimated maximum.

But the problem with a radar beam is that we have to scan above the surface. If we come down right to the surface, the beam gets broken up by terrain, by objects on the ground. It’s called beam blockage or ground clutter. 

Radar is very effective from around 100 meters or more above the ground. But what’s actually happening where it counts for humans is largely unknown. 

So, radar is very effective from around 100 meters or more above the ground. But what’s actually happening where it counts for humans is largely unknown. 

There’s another thing going on. Radar is basically telling you what’s going on within the [tornadic] component going towards the radar and away from the radar. But what’s obvious when you watch videos of tornadoes, you will see that near the surface what starts off as horizontal motions spiraling in, as air enters the tornado funnel, abruptly yanks upwards in a very steep spiral, so it now has a vertical component, the lifting upward.

Anton and Tracie Seimon with the tornado research team this spring in the Black Hills of eastern Wyoming. Devil’s Tower looms in the background. Photo: Jennifer Brindley Ubl

It’s not just the horizontal wind speeds that counts, which of course are incredibly strong, it’s that vertical force which can actually loft objects as well. You’ll see roofs being peeled off houses.

The Doppler radar is not the best tool for observing something like that. Videography, assuming you have a pretty unobstructed view, is potentially more informative in that regard, to really understand the trajectory that wind motions will follow. 

Video doesn’t see winds; it sees particles that are moved by the wind.

Now of course, video doesn’t see winds; it sees particles that are moved by the wind. If they are very large particles—rooftops, vehicles, whatever—friction and centrifuge and other factors really distort the motion relative to the wind field. A car is not going to be moving at the speed or along the path of the wind. However, very fine particles, like leaves, dust or even water vapor itself, in the funnel cloud, those really do approximate the airflow.

Many chasers are now toting 4K video cameras, and even higher-resolution is becoming available. What we’re doing in our current project is to strategically deploy multiple cameras close to a tornado, but in different positions, all shooting 4K video simultaneously. And from that, deriving those particle motions in three dimensions. You put it all into computer software for tracking particles and proceed frame by frame, 30 times per second, which is really a lot of information.

Just one second of common video footage from multiple perspectives gives us 30 individual snapshots. 

Given the strength of the wind fields we’re looking at, just one second of common video footage from multiple perspectives gives us 30 individual snapshots. And 30 chances to map out how each of those little clusters of particles are moving. Then if you’ve got those measurements, and you see them in two dimensions from this side and two dimensions from that side, put that all together if you can control for time and location—then we are starting to derive 3-D motions right down to the surface.   

A luminescent supercell thunderstorm dissipates above a Nebraska sunset/spring 2012. Photo: Tracie Seimon

DB: Is there a practical outcome for all this research, apart from understanding the phenomena of tornadoes?

AS: If we derive actual measurements—inferred measurements we can call them—it’s not like putting a wind sensor in the tornado, rather we’re tracking the particle motions to determine what those air flows look like. If we really can generate such results from a series of tornadoes of different intensities and different morphologies, and compare that to the resulting damage experienced at the surface—be it damage to vegetation or damage to structures—then we can start developing a more robust understanding of how one might engineer structures to survive tornadoes.

Right now, building codes in the middle of the United States work on relatively coarse assumptions about how strong the average tornado is. But is it possible to engineer structures to be somewhat more aerodynamic to those uplifting forces?

Anything we can do to reduce the exposure that humans and their products have to experience should a tornado strike, that’s something that’s desirable and attainable.

DB: On a personal note, tornado research is an experience you share with your family. How does that work?

AS: When things are intense out there, Tracie is the driver and I’m doing the navigation and meteorological interpretation. She takes still images, I do the videography. And our support team in the back are two hounds. It’s a family vacation we take every year. The hounds are frequently seen in our storm footage; they are the stars of the show. And they also keep us safe; we never forget that we have them with us; their wellbeing is our wellbeing as well, which is a terrific part of sharing the experience.

Storm hounds Squire and Jody (right) keep an eye on a severe storm as Anton and Tracie Seimon communicate with their research team on a chase in 2017. Photo: Anton Seimon

The truth is that storms are present for just a tiny part of the time we spend out there in the great expanse of the United States looking for storms. There’s all this other stuff going on. There’s the vast agricultural lands, all the open grasslands, maybe the distant mountains when you are closer to the Rockies. Our time out there has greatly increased our consciousness of the splendor of these landscapes, vast skies, and the pure air. We’re just mesmerized. We love, love being out there.  

Tracie and I are both mountaineers. We go about the world hiking and climbing great mountains, but from storm chasing we’ve learned to love the flat places, the expansive grasslands, and especially native prairie wherever we can find it.

And we camp there. At night the skies are ablaze with distant lightning and the stars, and there’s the smell of the prairie on the wind, and sagebrush. It’s incredible. We camp in our vehicle, on the prairie, and wake up to the sounds of birds. Then we go running in the mornings with our dogs on trails and dirt roads. We love viewing wildlife and birdlife, another great passion of ours, as we work in wildlife conservation as well. 

We’re very unusual in the storm-chasing community for experiencing nature in this way by camping out on the Great Plains. It’s our pilgrimage, every year for at least three weeks, and it is an absolutely extraordinary experience that we love and that is part of our lives.

INTERESTED IN BOOKING ANTON SEIMON TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

Related research article:
”Crowdsourcing the El Reno 2013 Tornado: A New Approach for Collation and Display of Storm Chaser Imagery for Scientific Applications,” ​by Anton Seimon,  John T. Allen, Tracie A. Seimon,  Skip J. Talbot and David K. Hoadley. Bulletin of the American Meteorological Society, December 2016.

More of Anton Seimons’s academic papers are listed on his Research Gate page.

Retired journalist David Max Braun lectures, writes and mentors on effective digital content strategies. You can connect with David on Linkedin.

MAJKA BURHARDT: WHEN ADVENTURE TURNS TO IMPACT

Majka Burhardt works her way up Widow’s Walk in Crawford Notch, New Hampshire. A deep passion for climbing ultimately led her to engage with a remote mountain community in Madagascar, and then to launch and lead the nonprofit, Legado. Photo: Bernd Zeugswetter

Interview by Mary Anne Potts

New Hampshire-based Majka Burhardt is a superhero. She can climb almost anything, including ice, where she just became the first woman to receive the American Mountain Guides Association Ice Instructor certification (in addition to her rock guiding certification). She can use science and adventure to protect some of the most biodiverse places in the world, mountains referred to as “sky islands,” working in partnership with the local people to build a better future. And she can raise toddler twins—in a pandemic.

Majka’s journey toward creating a nonprofit began when she saw a photo of a peak in Mozambique. “I knew I had to learn more—I’d had no idea there was even granite there,” she recalls. That picture eventually led her to find Mount Namuli, now her flagship sky island location. “It was on my 2011 reconnaissance visit there that I saw that I did not want to go forward by only merging science and climbing on Namuli—I had to  integrate that with working with local communities to conserve the future of their biodiversity,” the Patagonia-sponsored professional climber says.

In May 2014, she returned to lead an expedition of cliffside science and community building with an international team of biologists, climbers, conservation workers, and filmmakers who collaborated on Namuli, Mozambique’s second highest peak.

From that expedition, the idea for her non-profit, Legado, was born. Today Legado works to protect some of the most biodiverse mountains in the world, by working in partnership with local communities. Climbing—and what climbing has taught Majka—is threaded throughout their efforts. The goal of Legado is to scale to other sky island peak communities around the globe.

—Mary Anne Potts

Mary Anne Potts: How did your Namuli project use climbing to aid science?

Pioneering a research-focused route to the summit of Mt. Namuli in Mozambique, Majka and her expedition team of scientists and climbers celebrate topping out on the 1,200-foot granite peak. Photo: James Q. Martin

Majka Burhardt: The goal was to use climbing to facilitate the access for the scientists to be able to sample places they’d never been able to sample before. We wanted to draw attention to why this mountain is important, why we need to be protecting it from a biodiversity standpoint. We also wanted to make a splash with a film about putting all of these pieces together so that we could help the local community. Mount Namuli is in one of the most rural areas of one of the poorest countries in the world. We also furthered the understanding that its rainforest is also home to some of the most critical biodiversity on earth. 

“When we started working on Mount Namuli, the government thought 3,000 people lived on the mountain. It turned out 12,000 people live there.”

MP: It sounds like an amazing place.

MB: When we started working on Mount Namuli, the government thought 3,000 people lived on the mountain. It turned out 12,000 people live there. So that four-fold error really demonstrates the lack of information that the Mozambique government had about the mountain people surrounding the Namuli.

But beyond an underestimation of population, this number then trickles down to the infrastructure support they have from the government and other NGOs. Legado was the first group to go in to create a concentrated effort working with people—the communities on Mount Namuli—not only to protect their mountain rain forest, but also to protect their way of life.

MP: What’s happening there now?

MB: We’ve been working there full time for six years across multiple platforms, from agriculture support to legacy building, honey production to local governance and land rights. For example, early on we started working with the local communities to change their agricultural practices to be more sustainable. On a practical level, a first critical step means hoeing the rows so that they are horizontal as opposed to vertical, so that nutrients remain in their soil, instead of getting washed out so easily.

The Macunha community members plant avocado trees at the base of Mt. Namuli in 2019 to expand the primary school orchard, providing a shaded space and fruit for the children. Photo: Legado Collection

To someone thinking from a geometric perspective about runoff, you could say, “Of course that’s how you do it.” But if you’ve ever tried to use a hoe horizontally in rocky terrain, you discover why  vertical makes way more sense from a local standpoint.

Switching something as small as that, or our new initiative with honey production that starts with bee hives and brings the honey through the value chain to the consumer is huge. A big part of our work is to help bring in alternate incomes for the communities that live there, as well as working with them to honor the way of life that they’ve had for all these generations.

In a lot of ways, what Legado does is  pause for a moment with these mountain communities and say, “Okay, what do you want this to be three generations from now? And how can we help you create that?”

Living in one of the poorest, most marginalized areas, in one of the poorest countries in the world, no one talks to you about your future. You are living on a day-to-day basis. So we prioritize taking time to work in a future-based scenario, and ask, “What does the future need to look like here, to have a successful future?”

Through this conversation, we get to understand a lot of inherent conservation values and sync up with where people want to take their lives.

MP: Was a national park established around that peak?

MB: No. Right now, we’re working to create a community protected area on Namuli—one of the first in Mozambique. At the same time, we’re also expanding. We’re launching [work at] another mountain, Mount Ribaue, in Mozambique, in November—COVID permitting.

“Back when I started working on Legado, everyone said, ‘There is no way. It’s going to be impossible. It’s so hard to work there. Why would you do this? It’s just not on the map.’”

Back when I started working on Legado, everyone said, “There is no way. It’s going to be impossible. It’s so hard to work there. Why would you do this? It’s just not on the map.”

But East Africa is fundamentally made up of these sky mountains. We like to call them the water towers for East Africa, taken together. I realized we needed a strategy that was small and hyper-local, but that could then scale, to protect much of East Africa’s rain forest.

With Namuli, we tried to create something that could actually be scalable. It’s a really exciting time for us, because we are now starting to scale it. It took us six years on Namuli, to refine [the program], and to ask, “How do we want to approach this? What does it mean to go somewhere else?” Now we’re actually putting that in place. We’re also looking at expanding into Indonesia and Central Asia--to different mountains there--where we’d work with other partners and communities. 

Presenting on leadership and risk at a conference in Costa Rica, Majka Burhardt’s work involves public outreach for her nonprofit, Legado, which is focused on both environmental and cultural protection in “sky island” communities. Photo: SinterCafe

MP: Tell me about the next expedition.

MB: We are targeting November for the next expedition. We’re going to go to Mt. Ribaue, another Sky Island in Mozambique. It’s going to be similar to Namuli’s launch in that we’re combining climbing and science and community work, but the science is going to be pretty different. We’re going to be working with ornithologists to look at birds and with a lichenologist to look at lichens. One of the cool things about lichen is that a lot of the botanists have largely conducted traditional botany that was done in flat areas, or on different plateaus.

People had previously looked at these giant rock faces, and thought, “Nah, there’s nothing going on there.” But the reality is that when you start studying the lichens, the lichens appear differently at different elevations, depending on how competitive they’re being with other plants, and if they’re winning out or not. Lichen are seen as a bit of a canary in the coal mine for climate change.

And next to the lichen, we’re also going to be doing a bunch of bat surveys.

MP: Why bats?

MB: I’m terrified of bats, but yes, we’re going to be working with bats and birds and lichens. We’re also going to be doing another media piece about it, because for us, the daily work is what’s most important. But the media helps exert what we are doing in these mountains and build awareness for their protection on a local and global scale. .

Over the course of our work on Namuli, it—along with other Sky Islands—are now considered  a main priority by the Mozambique government and their conservation strategy. That’s in large part because of all the press and publicity that our film, Namuli, helped generate.  At Legado, we’re not only trying to inspire hyper-local action by working with mountain communities, but also national attention through media.

Then, on an international scale, really Legado’s goal is to have these mountains become part of a conservation mindset. They need a solution.

“Be very careful with your language and stay open to learning as you go along.”

Heading into a vertical unknown, Majka Burhardt and Kate Rutherford established the first ascent of the route, “Science Project,” on the southwest face of Mt. Namuli in Mozambique, 2014. Photo: Rob Frost

MP: You’ve really been able to accomplish a lot, as an outsider. Do you have any advice about how to have a genuine impact as an outsider?

MB: I think a big part about it is acknowledging what’s stacked up against you and acknowledging that history. Be very careful with your language and stay open to learning as you go along. The way I thought that I should be interacting six years ago is different than the way I interact now.

Being able to talk to people and emphasize that, “This is your land. This is your home. I’m here to talk to you about this.” It’s clearing up misconceptions. It’s trying to have a lot of integrity and a lot of transparency with the local groups. The solution is how do you do it in a way that feels genuine and honors people in the best way?

One thing that we’ve had a lot of success with is the leadership program we run. A lot of times, when people think leadership, especially in the context of conservation or development work, they think of working with the community leaders, or the people who are engaged in community government.

“When we talk about leadership, we’re talking about the people who are least likely to be consulted about their future. We do leadership programming for communities, not only their current leaders. We do it for anybody who wants to have a conversation about the future…”

But when we talk about leadership, we’re talking about the people who are least likely to be consulted about their future. We do leadership programming for communities, not only their current leaders, but we do it for anybody who wants to come and have a conversation about the future, which ties back into what we were talking about earlier.

We do this whole program about your personal vision for your life, and then what your goals are to get there—and it’s worked. What it does is it makes everybody human. I’m sitting there having a conversation about what my goals are for my future, next to a community member from Namuli, talking about their dreams for their future. I might say that my dream for my future is that my kids are going to go to college. For them, their dream right now might be that their kid is going to go to sixth grade. But they’re the same dream.

Being human, and acknowledging a shared humanity, lets us all relate. I will never be an insider--and it’s important to acknowledge that whenever you’re working in new communities around the world--but I’m a very human outsider.

MP: Do you have tips for how to build a genuine relationship?

Majka celebrating completion of the Legacy Leadership Program with the Legado field team members Filimonio Felizardo Jonasse and Galio Felizardo Zecas and their families in Gurue, Mozambique/2018. Photo: Curtiss Conrad.

MB: Listen more than you talk. One thing that we really try to do is to look at our answers from a lot of different perspectives. We work with our field team in Mozambique, we ask again and again “Okay, what do you guys think? Do you think we should change this? Where did I get this wrong? What happened? How could I do it better?”

We really created this culture within the team of being able to come back and reboot things. The opposite would be to be headstrong, without feedback, going forward. Instead, it’s really open for ongoing integration.

I think for me, it’s really interesting being a woman leading this international work. It rarely crosses my mind how rare it is to be in such a strong leadership role in these rural communities in Mozambique, where I’m working. But at the same time, I think the human factor in my work just skyrockets, because I’m not this big blustery guy coming in there.

For example, my life as a mom is part of my work and connection with the people who live on Namuli.  They all know that I was pregnant and then nursing twins, and that’s why I wasn’t there for two-and-a-half years, but our field team was there every day. We talk about my twins all the time, and I often end up crying when I share my commitment to my kids and to this work with the communities. I’m a very emotive person, and it changes the structure of how I work. That’s not saying a man can’t do that, but rather that for me, this is something I do without trying because of who I am as a person who happens to be a woman.

MP: I feel like since I’ve become a mom, I relate to people in a really different way. Are you going to bring the twins when you go out?

Enjoying some family sled time in nearby Vermont, Majka with her husband, Peter Doucette, and their twins, Kaz and Irenna (bottom, right). Photo: Katie Marvin

MB: They’re not going to go on this trip, but they will go soon. Part of it is, on a mom note, when people ask me that sometimes I want to say, “Sure. If you can give me $10,000, I will happily take my twins with me!” So, I’m going to buy two more plane tickets. And I’m going to work, so then they need childcare.

It’s fascinating to me, because before I got pregnant, I thought, “I’ll just have one kid. It will be so easy. I’ll just tuck her under the wing, she’ll go everywhere, and I’ll be this super mom.” I had two, so all expectations were blown out of the water.

I wondered, “What the heck was I thinking? Of course, you need to take a nap. Of course, schedules are important.” It’s such a great reality check, and also humbling, to your point of you relating better to people. You’re like, “Oh, yeah. I really didn’t get it.”

The twins will come at some point, for sure, when they can be a little bit more self-sufficient, and we don’t have to spend as much on a nanny.

MP: How did you make it make sense financially to do this for a living?

MB: I spent much of my 20s in an amalgamated financial landscape combining guiding and writing. In my 30s, I added my social entrepreneurship work. It started with two books and a film, and then grew into Legado. When we started Legado, we had $11,000 of funding from companies in the outdoor industry. That was in 2011. Today [the funding] supports my role as the full time Executive Director for Legado, and I also derive income from my work as a professional climber. 

INTERESTED IN BOOKING MAJKA BURHARDT TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

Connect with Majka on Instagram and on her website. You can learn more about the work of Legado at https://www.legadoinitiative.org. 

NATURE SILO-BREAKER JUAN MARTINEZ: Perspectives from the Youth and Community Outreach Fellow at The Aspen Institute’s Center for Native American Youth

Juan Martinez on the Grand Teton during his 2009 climb of the iconic Wyoming peak. Photo: Conrad Anker

As a young teenager, Juan Martinez felt certain that his social and economic circumstances were pushing him and his peers into a cycle of frustration—if not rage—against a system apparently stacked against people like him. But then he discovered one place, one power on Earth, that treated him just the same as anyone else: Nature. 

Inspired by the wilderness, and meeting like-minded mentors, Juan has made it his mission to show communities across America how they too can harness Nature, and one another, to heal, collaborate, and build a more perfect world.

--David Braun

David Braun: How did you become an activist for nature? What does that mean?

Juan Martinez: I have worked at the intersection of people, community well-being, and the healing power of nature, since 2000, the year I had a revolutionary awakening as to how nature impacted my own healing from trauma.

To me, an activist is an individual who understands three things: That we carry the responsibility to inspire others to seek out the best version of the world for future generations; to acknowledge the history and legacy of ideas and places that make today possible; and to translate the impossible into reality by conspiring with innovation and luck.

“Nature gives me a place where prejudice does not exist.”

DB: What was your trauma and how did nature give you a revolutionary awakening? How did this motivate you to become an activist?

JM: Nature gives me a place where prejudice does not exist. A place where I can show up without worrying if the trees will ask for my immigration status, where the river will not ask how much money I have in my pocket, and where the sun does not judge me for the path I have walked. The sun wakes and greets me with a sunrise, regardless of who or what I am. That is counter to what I experienced growing up where, because of my immigration status and being poor, systems of inequity limited my opportunities. At the age of 15 I believed that my future would be to drop out of school, make money fast, and live a life where I had to always watch my back. 

DB: Instead your path has taken you to some very interesting places, both in terms of geography and institutions. What have been some of the highlights, and how have those experiences influenced you?

JM: One of the highlights has been visiting Arctic Village in Alaska, as a guest of the Gwich’in community. This was a part of Fresh Tracks’ cross-cultural connection where young leaders from Compton, California and Alaska hosted each other in their communities. Fresh Tracks is a program of The Aspen Institute Forum for Community Solutions, supported in partnership by Native Americans in Philanthropy, Children & Nature Network, and Center for Native American Youth.

What impacted me the most about this experience is the reinforcing of a vision I have always held, that at the end of the day, we all seek out a caring community--a place to call home with people to care for. 

Juan Martinez with his wife, Vanessa Torres—a National Park Service director—during their 2013 wedding in the Grand Teton National Park, where they first met. Their story was recounted in the short film, Love in the Tetons. Photo: Rebecca Martin

The other highlight of this journey was the opportunity to work with the National Park Service as we celebrated 100 years of our National Parks in 2016. It was through a training session I was asked to speak at that I met my wife, Vanessa Torres. She is a constant source of inspiration as she builds pathways of equity within the National Park Service. 

DB: Where do you find yourself today? And where do you imagine your life’s journey might take you next?

JM: Today I lead the Fresh Tracks program at The Aspen Institute Forum for Community Solutions. Our mission is to expand  opportunities for rural, indigenous, and urban youth through civic engagement, cross-cultural exchange, and the outdoors. 

Fresh Tracks supports over 200 community leaders ages 18 to 25 across the country, working to address systems of inequity through civic engagement, cultural sharing and understanding, and the healing power of the outdoors. We facilitate collaboration among these communities to effectively address their most pressing challenges.

At Fresh Tracks we believe that outdoor spaces enhance community connections by fostering the time and space for deeper thought, reflection, and ultimately, human and cultural connections. 

Martinez with the Opportunity Youth Forum in Aspen, CO 2019. Photo: CJ Goulding

DB: What's an example of your impact/success, and what has been your biggest challenge?

JM: Devin Edwards is from Boston and Trenton Casillas-Bakeberg is of the Cheyenne River Sioux Tribe and lives in Rapid City, South Dakota. To Devin, Keystone was just another pipeline being built out there somewhere, but because of the connection and relationship he built with Trenton, he now understands that Trenton’s fight for justice, at Standing Rock, looks a lot like the search for justice in his very own Boston. (Read an article in the Dorchester Journal, Jan 2, 2020 about Devin Edwards: A legislative aide talks of his odyssey to a State House desk.)

“It is the young leaders and connections that happen because of my work that hold me accountable and keep me motivated.”

There are many quantifiable ways to measure my success over the last 10 years, but ultimately it is the young leaders and connections that happen because of my work that hold me accountable and keep me motivated. Conserving wild and open spaces for the sake of the privileged to enjoy them does not compare with the opportunity to engage someone in those spaces so that they can find their own voice and power to improve our world.

DB: Is there someone else who shares your epiphany that nature empowers people to build a better life?

JM: CJ Goulding started as a participant of a program I started at the Children & Nature Network, The Natural Leaders Network. We have grown our relationship from participant, mentor and mentee, to now peers and colleagues. Supporting and sharing in CJ’s growth and his story inspires me and holds me accountable to the fact that we need to foster new and innovative leaders. His blog post, Why I Wear Jordans in the Outdoors, is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand bridge-building between nature and people.  

CJ Goulding and Juan Martinez, celebrating the tenth anniversary of the Natural Leaders Network at The Children & Nature Network’s 2019 International Conference. Photo: Children & Nature Network

DB: So there's a new generation emerging, I sense, that is more aware of nature and the need to embrace it. Perhaps Greta Thunberg may be just the cutting edge of this. Do you agree that young people are more aware of what's happening to the natural world, and perhaps more motivated to become engaged as activists? Or are they perhaps increasingly disillusioned, despairing, and disconnected from nature, making them more isolated, indifferent or even unaware of what's happening to our planet and its critical lifelines?

“I think there is a moment arising… this generation’s rally cry is a powerful one.”

JM: I think there is a moment arising. Many of us have the ability and privilege to connect and learn about pretty much everything within the palm of our hand. Yes, we are more aware and I think the rising generation of leaders is more aware of their surroundings and issues than ever before, and at a younger age.

This moment calls for brave and innovative solutions that look at breaking silos across issues and lay the pathway towards solutions that we have never seen before. This generation’s rally cry is a powerful one. We now need to place the resources and decision-making power in their hands.

DB: Where would you like to take your work in the next few years?

JM: My work has grown to be a platform for movement leaders to come together, look at each other eye to eye, and understand that the issues we care about are personal and critical in unique ways. The goal we all share is to improve the lives of those who are closest to the pain and to equip those leaders with the right opportunities and resources to build community and youth-driven solutions.

Martinez on a visit with wife, Vanessa, to Glacier National Park, Montana. Photo: Vanessa Torres

DB: You were so inspired by climbing Grand Teton with Conrad Anker. Why was that, and how did it change you? Are there other mountains for you to climb, more places to explore?

“I learned from Conrad Anker and his family: live in gratitude and joy, and every single day.”

JM: My favorite part about climbing The Grand Teton with Conrad Anker is the joy in reflecting back to those days and seeing two people from different places and different journeys share the achievement and adventure as we reached the summit. I am forever grateful to Conrad and his wife Jenny--they have opened their home and hearts to me and my family. If there is anything that I learned from Conrad and his family, it is to live in gratitude and joy, and every single day.

DB: How do you imagine and hope you will evolve as an explorer? Where or what is left that you would truly like to explore?

JM: Exploration to me means a consistent rhythm of imagination and wonder. I’m learning ways to keep pushing myself and much of that comes from connecting with my fellow explorers. Every time I share time and space with any of them, I walk away reassured that we are all doing what we can to build a better now and tomorrow.

INTERESTED IN BOOKING JUAN MARTINEZ TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

Connect with Juan D. Martinez on Twitter and Instagram.

IDavid Braun is a veteran journalist and former VP of Digital Media at National Geographic. Connect with David on Linkedin.

BØRGE OUSLAND: THE COLD OBSESSION OF A POLAR LEGEND

Børge Ousland during his solo trek to the North Pole in 1994.

“He combined extensive experience with careful organisation and followed his daily plan with rigid efficiency,” …Ousland was, “confident, extremely competent, and yet not a bit arrogant.”  —Sir Edmund Hillary

Interview by Rebecca Martin

Photographs by Børge Ousland

When I first learned of Norwegian polar explorer Børge Ousland in the mid-1990s, it was well before expeditions could be followed online and in real time, when explorers had sparse communication with the world at large. Ousland’s training and polar feats seemed indisputably herculean, particularly because he was often skiing solo across the most inhospitable terrain on the planet, hauling +300-pound sleds without resupply, all while enduring an unimaginable array of other challenges—including surviving the planet’s most bone-freezing temperatures and multiple encounters with polar bears. And, amidst all this, he produced exceptional images and video of his journeys in the stark, then still-intact polar icescapes. 

Ousland was the first person to complete solo crossings of both the Arctic and the Antarctic. His Antarctic crossing charted a direct line from one coastline of the continent to the other—a trek of 1,768 miles. (He listened to Jimi Hendrix for motivation along the way.) His route made no use of man-made ice roads, so sastrugi and crevasses were endless hazards: Indeed, Ousland’s finely honed skills on ice determined a successful self-rescue after crashing through snow and ice into a hidden crevasse on the epic journey.

In Sir Edmund Hillary’s foreword to Ousland’s book, Alone Across Antarctica, he commented on his first meeting with the Norwegian, who had just reached Scott Base after his 64-day traverse of the continent: “He combined extensive experience with careful organisation and followed his daily plan with rigid efficiency,” noting that Ousland was, “confident, extremely competent, and yet not a bit arrogant.”

Børge Ousland is exceptional in the world of exploration: A former Norwegian Navy seal and deep-sea diver who worked the oil rigs in the North Sea, most would consider him an utter glutton for punishment. And while, as Ed Hillary observed, he is intensely disciplined in his training and expedition planning and execution, he is equally focused on other facets of his life, including building and overseeing his sleek aluminum, glass, and wood ecolodge perched on the far northern coast of Norway--Manshausen--as well as publishing books, lecturing, and nurturing his deep connection with family. 

Several years ago, Ousland partnered with French explorer Vincent Colliard, who had long followed his teammate’s remarkable exploits. The lively, jocular Colliard shared with me that his early dream was realized when he joined Ousland in the field, and now the pair has completed a series of journeys for their Ice Legacy Project, documenting the Arctic and northern glaciers amidst the changing climate. 

Most recently, Ousland wrapped up a grueling expedition across the melting, fractured Arctic, together with adventurer Mike Horn. (This was also the last leg of Horn’s three-year Pole2Pole expedition.) While their improbable (under current conditions) full crossing was successful, the ship that met them became wedged in thick ice, stranding Horn, Ousland and the crew in the Arctic through Christmas. They finally set foot in Tromsø, Norway several weeks later.

Børge’s deep experience in managing the highest levels of risk and overcoming a multitude of obstacles during his exploits will undoubtedly inform, astonish and inspire in the interview that follows.

—Rebecca Martin, President—Exploration Connections

Traversing the Arctic in winter 2006 pushed Ousland and expedition partner Mike Horn beyond anything they had ever endured: Weeks on end journeying through the polar icescape in near-constant darkness.

REBECCA MARTIN:  Roald Amundsen and Fridtjof Nansen are perhaps the most notable Norwegian polar explorers of the past, and there were so many other Norwegians who journeyed to the Earth’s coldest places. Did their expeditions serve as an inspiration when you first considered polar exploration? 

BØRGE OUSLAND: Yes, especially Nansen for two reasons: When I did my first expedition across Greenland in 1986 with two friends—Jan Morten Ertsaas and Agnar Berg—Nansen was the great inspiration, since he was the first to cross Greenland in 1888. When I was a kid, my father used to read from a book by Hjalmar Johansen. It was a children’s book about the trip he and Nansen made towards the Pole with the ship he had built, Fram, and their wintering on Frans Josef Land from 1895 to 1896. I won’t say that this book was a life changer for me, since I had no desire to be a polar explorer at that stage in life, but the expedition these two did—setting off from the ship Fram into the unknown and wintering in Frans Josef Land with almost nothing to help them—is one of the greatest trips in polar history, at least in the north. And this journey has been my biggest inspiration for my own expeditions.

“I am quite thorough. I don’t leave much to chance—knowing that it’s so much better to get it right before you go than fixing things in the tent. It’s about optimizing all aspects that can help you move forward and achieve your goal.”

Amundsen was the most successful of the two, and not much beats his expedition to the South Pole—and he did so many trips. He was a great planner and a great adventurer. Both [Nansen and Amundsen] were huge inspirations for me in various ways.

RM:  What impressed you most about them?

BO: Nansen: His boldness, mind over matter, he held the deed high—and also his positive attitude. Especially on the wintering trip on Frans Josef Land. They simply never gave up. They wanted to make it. Wanted and believed that they were going to get back home. Amundsen, the planner—well organized. He left nothing to chance and had extreme focus on details.

RM:  How did  your early career as a Special Forces soldier in the Norwegian Navy and your job deep-sea diving on oil rigs in the North Sea prepare you for your decades of journeys in the cold places on the planet? 

Navigating precarious ice bridges during Ousland’s ski between Arctic islands with Swiss adventurer Thomas Ulrich—In the Footsteps of Nansen Expedition, 2007.

BO: The job as a soldier was a lot about mastering difficult tasks under stress and the importance of doing dangerous things in a safe way through training. Jumping out of a plane or swimming out of a torpedo tube on a submarine in the middle of the night, for instance, is not something you normally would do. But through training and the right techniques and equipment, it’s possible. 

Deep-sea diving was dangerous. There were quite a lot of accidents in the early days of that profession, and we were, in many ways, guinea pigs. The technical and safety [aspects] were not fully developed, and the effects on the human body were not completely understood. I had my deepest dive to 220 meters (721 feet) in the North Sea, and did a test dive to 360 meters (1,181 feet) in a facility in Bergen, Norway. Now the limit is 180 meters (590 feet).

One thing I took with me into the expedition world is the safety. When I dived, I knew that many things could go wrong, and I also knew that the only person I really could trust was myself. So I have always looked upon safety as a personal responsibility, where the secret is to be that one little step ahead of yourself, trying to understand what is going to happen before it happens. And if something goes wrong, you know what to do, because you have trained for it as a part of your preparation. This is a bit different than in society in general, where others make the safety rules and you just follow them.

RM: Anyone who is familiar with your achievements might think that you are so incredibly well conditioned that you wouldn’t need to train intensely before your expeditions, and yet, of course, you do—by any measure. How do you prepare yourself for your journeys, like your most recent Arctic crossing with Mike Horn?

BO: To be in good shape, you need to train! I train regularly and intensify the [regime] about six months before the trip, knowing that the last month—with all the bits and pieces needing to be done to prepare—there will not be much time for training. That said, I think my body remembers the hardship, and is better prepared for it, compared to a person who never has pulled a 150 kg (330 pound) sled before.

“One thing I took with me into the expedition world is the safety. When I dived, I knew that many things could go wrong, and I also knew that the only person I really could trust was myself. So I have always looked upon safety as a personal responsibility, where the secret is…”

RM: Having been the first person to cross both the Arctic and Antarctica solo, what do you believe were the elements in your planning and training that led to your success.

A curious polar bear mother and her cubs scope out camp as Ousland and Horn settle in for rest during their Polar Night expedition.

BO: I am quite thorough. I don’t leave much to chance—knowing that it’s so much better to get it right before you go than fixing things in the tent. It’s about optimizing all aspects that can help you move forward and achieve your goal. A ski is not just a ski—you need to optimize the glide, go into all the little details. I also make new designs when I see things can be better. The suit to swim across leads [open water], for instance, sled, tent, sleeping bag, clothing. Most of the equipment for the recent trip with Mike Horn was modified or somehow specially designed for the specific conditions of this journey. Also, an important and often forgotten factor is experience over time: That I have done many expeditions gives me more than average knowledge, and that helps a lot. Nowadays you can read in books exactly what you should bring with you on a long, modern polar trip, but you also need experience to know how to use that equipment and how to deal with the conditions.

RM:  Of course, when you completed your polar crossings in the 1990s, you did not have the luxury of communication with the world beyond. Now you do have access to communication technology, like other explorers in the field. How does the exploratory experience differ from when you had little or minimal communication—especially given your prior solo journeys?

BO: It’s more office work in the tent, and personally I don’t really like it so much—it takes a bit of the presence out of the experience. It’s a big pressure to be online all the time, satisfy sponsors and getting through all the [communications]. In many ways, it was easier before when you could do a big trip, and it was mostly after the journey that the story was told. Now, with modern tech, it’s very different. But that’s just one of the things you have to live with.

RM: Were there elements of being alone in nature that you most enjoyed? And then difficult moments you experienced with the solitude?

BO: Absolutely, being solo for a long period of time is a great experience. You do have a sense of a deeper dialogue with yourself and the nature around when you don’t have anyone else to lean on. At the same time, it’s more extreme—no one to give you that slap on the shoulder and say come on! No one to help you if you go through the ice. The worst for me, however, are those transitional phases, especially the start, where you are going into the unknown and are leaving your friends and warmth behind—taking those first steps on a two-to-three month trip that no one has done before and you don’t know what will happen. For instance, leaving that helicopter on my first North Pole trip in 1994, that was hard.

“I learned, the hard way… how to deal with the emotions that can completely overwhelm you on a long solo trip, where you may feel that everything is hopeless and what you have started is just too big.”

RM: What have been some of your most challenging experiences on your expeditions and how did you deal with them? 

BO: I think the most challenging experiences have all been linked to my solo expeditions, where you are the patient and doctor in the same person, knowing what to do or think doesn’t always mean that you are able to get back on top. But I learned, the hard way you might say, how to deal with the emotions that can completely overwhelm you on a long solo trip, where you may feel that everything is hopeless and what you have started is just too big. One small step at a time, knowing that what I feel today will not be the same as I feel tomorrow or after one week, has been my recipe. Not thinking too far ahead, if I have a bad day—knowing that these feelings will change if I give it some time. And simply accepting those feelings. It’s OK to feel sorry for yourself, and at the same time, don’t let those feelings drag you down completely.

Arctic moonset as Ousland and Horn near the conclusion of their 2006 winter crossing—a first in exploration.

RM: You’ve had quite a number polar bear encounters on your Arctic expeditions. What do you do to avoid or discourage the bears?

BO: Encounters with polar bears sometimes happen, and it’s my job to be able to continue safe and sound without harming the animal. Polar bears are normally both curious and hungry, and I simply need to convince the bear that it’s not a good idea to eat me, and I do that by using flares, and sometimes pepper spray, to scare them off.

RM: You must burn many thousands of calories each day on expeditions, pulling your 330-pound sled for up to 12 hours a day, or more, and given the sub-zero temperatures. What is your preferred diet during these grueling journeys? And are there some favorite foods that are essential—even just for the sake of morale—after a hard day?

BO: On my recent trip across the North Pole, for instance, we started with around 5,200 calories a day for 20 days and then [consumed] 6,000 for the rest of the trip. It’s a lot of food, but you need that energy—especially because it will get a lot colder towards the end of the trip, and just breathing that cold air while sleeping makes your body shiver and burn energy. So it’s lots of fat—around 50 percent of the energy comes from fat—everything, from breakfast to lunch, and dinner—has extra fat. Dinner is the main meal, because that’s when the body and muscles build up strength again to be able to perform the next day. Breakfast and lunch are my own recipes: Oatmeal for breakfast and lunch with a mix of dried fruits, nuts, sugar and fat. [Also] chocolate and dried fish. Dinner consists of freeze-dried meat, vegetables, butter and mashed potatoes. 

“Decision making always involves getting as much information as possible, analyzing it, trying to keep feelings out of it, and being careful not to rush into something that later turns out to be wrong.”

RM: What do you ALWAYS bring in your pack—the essential items for survival, given potential medical issues or extreme weather events that delay you in the field? 

BO: What I use most is actually sports tape. I use it for everything: For blister prevention to repairs. And my favorite piece of equipment is my down vest—it’s so nice and a versatile garment. I keep it on the top of my sled and take it on or off to regulate the temperature along the way.

On bear alert and peering out from his tent, Ousland captured this image on his Nansen expedition with Thomas Ulrich.

RM: Can you share your thoughts on the importance of decision-making on expeditions, and how your deep experience has played a role in keeping you safe and ensuring your success?

BO: Decision making always involves getting as much information as possible, analyzing it, trying to keep feelings out of it, and being careful not to rush into something that later turns out to be wrong. Sometimes it’s important not to make any decision, if the answer is not clear—often it’s better to wait until you have enough information. And, if possible, always ask for a second opinion. But be careful whom you ask: You need an objective answer. Decisions that have to happen fast are best when based on training: The more you have trained in dangerous situations that could happen before you go, the better prepared you will be to make the right choices on the way. Big decisions—the big “WHY?”—it’s also good to settle in your head before you go. Then you know where you are going and why, you have spent a long time considering it in a dry, warm room with all the pros and cons on the table. And you are more likely not to rush into some stupid or random decisions based on feelings [you experience] in the field.  

RM: Many of your journeys early on were solo—except, for instance, your unsupported ski to the North Pole in 1990 with Erling Kagge (another first), and a couple others—but now you have been on quite a number of expeditions with fellow explorers Thomas Ulrich, Mike Horn, and, more recently, French explorer, Vincent Colliard. Have you grown to prefer being in the field with an expedition partner, and, if so, why? 

BO: In a way, yes, because you can do so much more with a strong partner. To be solo is extreme, and it was a big part of my life for many years. I have proven what I can do solo, and now it’s another phase of my expedition life. And, it’s a lot more fun!

RM:  What are the skills and qualities that you look for in an expedition partner?

BO: There are, of course, many things. The personality—you must enjoy their company, after all, you will share months in a small tent together. Skills are another necessary quality—someone totally inexperienced will simply not work for me as partner. Apart from that, I look for someone who has the same motivation as me. On a big, difficult trip you have enough with yourself, so you need an expedition partner who you know is able to take care of themselves. You don’t have the mental energy to pull off the expedition for the both of you. Secondly, my partners have to be equally fast: I hate waiting!

RM: No doubt, through your ongoing expeditions in Arctic regions, you have witnessed the effects of climate change. What are some of the more concerning impacts of climate change that you have observed?

IceLegacy partners Vincent Colliard and Børge Ousland on the Stikine Icecap—which straddles the Alaska-British Columbia border—during a 2017 expedition to collect data on climate-based changes on this third largest icefield in the United States.

BO: Climate change is without a doubt the biggest challenge humanity faces today. It’s sad, really, that we have not been able to take better care of our beautiful planet. The Ice Legacy Project, for instance, is strongly linked to what is happening to the world’s glaciers, where we want to be those eyes on the ground and get the message across that these glaciers are melting rapidly. And we all know that melting glaciers will end up in the ocean and contribute to sea level rise. Researchers are now talking about one meter (39 inches) of sea level rise this century. Think about that, one meter! It is going to turn the world as we know it upside down! We know it will happen, and we are still not able to do what is needed to stop it.

On the trip across the Arctic in autumn 2019, Mike Horn and I didn’t see a single polar bear while skiing, and I have never seen so much thin ice. It’s a totally different landscape compared to when I did my first expeditions to the Pole in the early ‘90s.

RM: You have partnered with French Polar explorer Vincent Colliard on a series of expeditions to cross the world’s largest glaciers—a long-term effort you dubbed, “Ice Legacy”—with the aim to raise public awareness around glacial melt and the resulting threat of sea level rise. How precisely will this project unfold over time, and with whom are you partnering?

BO: We are working with the University of Alaska to take daily snow samples that are going to be analyzed for isotopes and pollution. In addition, we have a collaboration with Airbus Defense and Space, which takes detailed satellite images of all the glaciers we are crossing, together with our images and stories from the ground, which is our legacy for the future. When the glaciers are gone, there will exist a detailed map of all the 20 greatest icecaps showing what the glaciers looked like when we crossed them.

I want to get the younger generation on board. We—including myself—have made such a big mess of things, and we will unfortunately have to lean on the younger guys to clean up this mess. So it’s important that they have early knowledge of what is happening. This year I will embark on a lecture series in schools to tell our [Ice Legacy] stories.

“Leaving my family is always the hard part, and when I leave, I often feel it’s meaningless and that I should stay at home and be a normal father. But, at the same time, we get a different bond through these partings, and it’s through missing someone or something that you understand what you have.”

RM: If you could provide one or two recommendations to the next generation of explorers, what would they be—especially those who are drawn to explore and research in the Earth’s cold places?

BO: I would say start at a level you feel comfortable with. Join one of the guided trips that many polar explorers do these days, and learn from them. Make sure to go with a qualified IPA (International Polar Guides Association) guide. They have a lot of knowledge and are happy to share. That I think is the best way to start, and then you can move on from there.

Already immersed in the natural world, Ousland’s eight-year-old daughter, Ingeborg, on a hike with her family in northern Norway.

RM:. And finally, I’m curious: What does your young daughter, Ingeborg, think of your exploration-based life? Is she showing similar inclinations?BO: Leaving my family is always the hard part, and when I leave, I often feel it’s meaningless and that I should stay at home and be a normal father. But, at the same time, we get a different bond through these partings, and it’s through missing someone or something that you understand what you have. I have no idea if she wants to follow in my footsteps, that’s completely up to her to decide. What I can do is to make her love nature—that’s the most important thing.

INTERESTED IN BOOKING BØRGE OUSLAND TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

To learn about Ice Legacy Project, visit: Icelegacy. Connect with Børge on Instagram and Facebook. For information on Ousland’s eco-lodge on Norway’s northern coast go to Manshausen.

A LIFE BEYOND THE INACCESSIBLE: SARAH McNAIR-LANDRY

Sarah McNair-Landry and her huskies glide across Arctic ice during a circumnavigation of Baffin Island with Erik Boomer. Their objective: to retrace her parent’s journey 25 years earlier, then a first in polar exploration.

Interview by Mary Anne Potts

Photographs by Erik Boomer

As we publish this interview, Sarah McNair-Landry has journeyed to Antarctica to guide a client to the Southern Pole of Inaccessibility, which might sound more like a place in a science fiction novel, rather than a very remote spot at the bottom of the world. For Sarah, 33, who is perhaps the world’s most accomplished female polar explorer, it’s simply a job she is very qualified to do. After all, she became the youngest person to reach both poles when she was 19.

Growing up on Baffin Island with polar explorer parents, Sarah has explored the ends of the Earth largely with her brother, Eric, and her life partner, Erik Boomer. Sarah shares with Exploration Connections a bit of what she’s learned and accomplished over years of exploring in the cold climes, the unique and invaluable mentorship in her life, and an array of expeditionary tips.

—Mary Anne Potts, Writer at Large

Mary Anne Potts: You are headed to the Southern Pole of Inaccessibility. Where is that? 

Sarah McNair-Landry: Basically it's the true center of the Antarctic continent, which would make it the most inaccessible point. And, yes, there is a statue of Lenin there. Not many teams have been there. The Russians went in by tractor expedition. My dad was the second to do an expedition there, my brother also did an expedition there, and a couple other teams did as well. Boomer and I will be guiding a client there. The expedition is planned to take 85 days.

Sarah McNair-Landry and brother, Eric, were primed early on for their polar exploits. Photo: McNair-Landry Collection.

MP: Your parents were both polar explorers and you grew up in the Arctic, on Baffin Island. How did exploration fit into your childhood?

SML: They say you’re a product of your environment. Baffin Island is the same place where people train to go to the North Pole. It was our backyard, where my brother and I would bundle up and go outside to play.

On top of that, we had parents who were guides who encouraged us to spend time outside. We always wanted to go skiing and dogsledding. And family camping trips were not optional.                                                                                              

MP: As kids, would you go along on guided trips with your parents and clients?

SML: Yes. My parents were always guiding. They moved from Thunder Bay, Ontario, up to Baffin Island when I was three, and that’s where they really started their own company and began guiding. We were always involved in the company, whether it was helping out on the pack-outs, or, as we got older, going along as assistant guides. Eventually we started doing more and more of the guiding. I actually bought the family company, Northwind Expeditions, about five years ago. My brother is still involved

MP: You and your partner, Erik Boomer, re-traced your parents’ circumnavigation of Baffin. Could you tell us about that trip? 

SML: In 1990, my parents dropped us off at my grandmother’s house and left to go do the expedition. I was three and my brother was four. They were the first to circumnavigate Baffin Island by dog team. It was about 4,000 kilometers in four months. They did that expedition, and then they stayed in Baffin to live there. I grew up hearing stories of their expedition and seeing their old slides.

Raised on Baffin Island by their polar explorer parents, Sarah and Eric—now longtime expedition partners—on one of their frequent family trips in the northern wilds of Canada. Photo: McNair-Landry Collection

“When we started out, I had a lot of confidence. I thought, “I grew up in Baffin. I’ve been dog sledding all my life. It’s 25 years later. We have sat phones, GPSs, and all these modern pieces of equipment that they didn’t have. We’ve got this!”

On the 25th anniversary of the expedition, nobody had repeated it, so Boomer and I decided to take our dogs and go re-trace it. We had my parents’ old maps and old journals. When we started out, I had a lot of confidence. I thought, “I grew up in Baffin. I’ve been dog sledding all my life. It’s 25 years later. We have sat phones, GPSs, and all these modern pieces of equipment that they didn’t have. We’ve got this!”

But it definitely pushed us. The funny thing is, we ironically finished the expedition in 120 days, which was the same amount of time it took my parents to do it. And not on purpose. I definitely have a little competitive streak, so if we could have beaten them by one day, we would have.

MP: What are some of the challenges you encountered on the trip?

SML: I think the biggest challenge was the length of time. It was 4,000 kilometers, and we had to pack it into one season. We were out for 120 days. We did pull through several small Inuit communities, where we were able to rest the dogs, feed them up, restock, and then head back out.

Another challenge was the amount of distance we needed to cover each day. We couldn’t start too early. We had to wait for the ice to be frozen and the snow to be good enough. That put us out in some of the coldest, darkest temperatures of the winter when we started our expedition. Then, on the flip side, we were really worried, especially 25 years later, that the snow would melt before we were done. That was probably our biggest worry, because you never know when spring is going to hit. We didn’t have a date when we had to be done. You just keep your fingers crossed and hope the rivers don’t start opening up and flowing, and that the snow isn’t too soon.

MP: What advice do you have for someone venturing into extreme cold?

SML: The best way to learn how to deal with the cold is by spending time in extreme cold conditions. Have the right clothing and equipment that works for you—everyone's body is different, so by spending time testing clothing and equipment in cold conditions you will learn what works best for you.  Eat and drink regularly—you need enough energy (food and water) so that your body can produce heat. Never stop moving—physical activity produces heat. In extreme cold conditions we are always constantly moving to stay warm. Also a good way to practice those dance moves. And finally, don't sweat. If you sweat, then you get your clothing wet. As soon as you stop moving, you'll freeze. 

“The best way to learn how to deal with the cold is by spending time in extreme cold conditions. Have the right clothing and equipment that works for you…”

MP: You grew up with parents who were both adventure partners and life partners. And you also have an adventure partner who is also a life partner. Do you have any insights on how to make that work?

SML: I’m lucky that I met Boomer, and he’s just as enthusiastic about dropping off the grid and spending time outside. He loves to do big trips and really prioritizes it. I’ve always been lucky in finding expedition partners, including my brother.

I find it easier to do these big, hard expeditions with somebody I know so well because, in some ways, there are no surprises. With Boomer, we know each other’s weaknesses and each other’s strengths. He knows when to give me support. I know when I should give him support. The same is true with my brother, too. There are just none of those surprises when you get in the field, and you’re like, “Oh, I didn’t know that about you.” I think in some ways, for me, it works better being super close and knowing my expedition partners really well.

MP: I first learned about you years ago from polar explorer Will Steger. I remember him saying, “There’s this really strong young polar explorer coming up…” And in return, I think you taught him how to kite ski? Was he a mentor to you?

SML: I was lucky enough to work for Will Steger for a year. We did two expeditions together. The big one was we spent two months in the Canadian Arctic doing a big dog sledding expedition together. The whole focus on was the next generation and climate change, which has long been a big message for Will. I definitely had grown up hearing stories about Will Steger and being inspired by his stories. It was really cool to work with him. He was a really good mentor, in a lot of ways. 

In turn, he really trusted us, too. He got me and Eric to put the three teams together, to train the dog teams, and to do a lot of the logistics and planning. I felt like Will really trusted our opinions and gave us a lot of liberty to do our work, which brings the best out of people.

And then, the second trip, Will decided he wanted to learn how to kite-ski, so the four of us crossed the Greenland ice sheet. Toby Thorleiffson, my brother, and I all knew how to kite-ski, so it was a cool reversal of roles. We were taking Will under our wing and showing him how to kite, a newer-generation skill that was just coming up. 

When winds whip up, kite-skiing hastens a journey at up to 70 mph, and aids in hauling 220-plus pound sleds.

MP: How did he do?

SML: He did awesome. I think he might have been 63 or 64 at the time. For somebody who has done so many cool expeditions, I think it’s so great that he embraced new ways to travel even in his 60s.

MP: You may be young, but you’ve been going to the Poles for nearly two decades. How have you experienced climate change so far in your expeditions?

“I think the biggest one for me, and where I see [climate change] the most, is the North Pole. Just looking at my parents when they started guiding in the late 90s, versus when I went up there in the 2000s, the methods of traveling and dealing with open water were totally different.”

SML: For Baffin, we’ve been getting a lot more erratic weather. It’s not necessarily warmer. A lot of times, we’ll get these summer climate predictions that show it’s becoming colder. 

I think the biggest one for me, and where I see [climate change] the most, is the North Pole. Just looking at my parents when they started guiding in the late 90s, versus when I went up there in the 2000s, the methods of traveling and dealing with open water were totally different.

Now, full-length expeditions are pretty much shut down. Nobody has done them for several years. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s becoming more and more challenging, which is both really sad to see because it’s such an amazing area and sad for someone who has a company in guiding to both Poles. It definitely limits the options.

MP: Do you know how to sail? I’m kind of joking, but kind of not...

SML: Børge [Ousland] is doing one now.

MP: Maybe Børge and Mike Horn will get it done. I guess we’ll see.

SML: Yeah, we’ll see. If someone could do it, it’s probably Børge.

MP: Speaking of Børge…at the end of 2018/start of 2019, when Colin O’Brady claimed to have made the first, “solo, unsupported crossing of Antarctica,” Børge and others were somewhat dismayed, because Colin completely dismissed the epic, and much longer, true exploratory crossing Børge did in 1996-97. What are your thoughts about that situation?

SML: I just think people need to be honest about their expeditions and what they do. It’s good to give props to the people who were there before, too. That’s what it comes down to. Just be honest about what you do and give respect to the people who did equally or bigger, more badass expeditions before you.

MP: How do you pick your expeditions?

SML: I kind of have this “I’m going” idea bank of expeditions I’d like to do. Sometimes, the time is just right. For example, that Baffin Island one—it was the 25th anniversary [of my parent’s expedition], and I was like, “Okay, we’ve got to do it this year.”

With other expeditions, it’s just what I’m more excited about. And they change. Like the last, the Into Twin Galaxies expedition [Iceland] was perfectly aligned with Boomer’s background and my background—water kayaking in polar regions and packaging it all into one big expedition.

I think it varies with what we’re excited about at the time, and what we’re doing. We’ve been spending a lot more time learning to climb, and we’d like to start incorporating that into some expeditions.

Meltwater atop sea ice requires the frigid version of water skiing on Sarah and Boomer’s four-month Baffin Island expedition—the sopping conditions, referred to as “melt ponds,” tend to form in spring and summer.

MP: How do you find funding for your expeditions?

SML: That’s my least favorite part. Most of our funding has come from grants, similar to the Nat Geo Expeditions Council grants. We also find some funding through the outdoor industry, or through film projects, like Red Bull, when they jumped on for Into Twin Galaxies.

I’ve gotten pretty good at Arctic logistics and knowing how to make it really cheap. I try not to let funding dictate whether I’m going to do an expedition or not. For example, the Baffin Island dog sled expedition—we really struggled to get any funding for it, and we just decided to do it anyway. We sewed our own jackets and pants and built our own dog sled.

Being raised in Baffin is a huge advantage. We just made it happen as cheaply as possible, and saved up a bunch of money for it.

I have so much respect for people who just make it happen, versus listening to what the funders want, and trying to curate expeditions that you think have more funding opportunities.

MP: As you’ve gotten into filmmaking, what advice do you have on the types of expeditions that make for the best stories?

SML: It’s so hard to tell the story before you go on an expedition, because you don’t really know what’s going to happen. Of course, you know it’s cold, and it’s going to be hard, and there are going to be challenges, and it’s going to be dangerous. But I feel like so much of the story comes out on the expedition. I think the personalities are such a huge part of the expedition, too.

MP: It sounds like you’re saying you’ve got to put the trip together and then see what happens?

SML: Yeah. Of course, we try to figure out the story ahead of time, but I think you also need to be open to these storylines popping up that are totally unexpected.

MP: Like when you broke your back [kite skiing] on the Twin Galaxies expedition?

SML: Yeah, exactly. People seem to love injuries. Don’t plan on it, but that’s what the audience loves.

“…we spent 35 days walking icecaps, and the first “river” we got to was non-existent. We’d seen it on Google Earth, but then nothing was there. Those are parts of the story that you just can’t script. It just happens.”

MP: Oh, really?

SML: I think one of the best parts of the story, too, was that we spent 35 days walking icecaps, and the first “river” we got to was non-existent. We’d seen it on Google Earth, but then nothing was there. Those are parts of the story that you just can’t script. It just happens.

MP: That’s good advice. It always seems like you have everything completely under control on these expeditions. But could you tell us about some of the more challenging situations you’ve been in, and how you’ve dealt with them?

Sarah maneuvers through a precarious ice canyon on the Twin Galaxies expedition/Iceland.

SML: We always plan for the worst and the hardest, but I think the hardest moments to deal with are the ones that you don’t foresee. I think a good example is when my brother and I kite-skied the Northwest Passage. We were just coming up to our halfway mark in time and distance. We were a little delayed, but feeling good about the expedition.

We pulled up to this area where we knew there was going to be bad ice. It was about 100 kilometers. A big storm had hit it a couple of days before, and just opened it all up, and it was impassable, open water, bad ice. I remember getting there, and I remember all of us were  down. I was like, “Okay, let’s just camp. We’ll check the ice again tomorrow morning, and make a decision.”

Then, all of a sudden, this bear ripped through our tent…

It was obvious that we couldn’t cross, but we were keeping our hopes high. That night, a polar bear ripped through our tent. Two massive downers, one after another. Not only were we trying to mentally accept that we had to do this 550 kilometer detour—to get around this section of open water—but we didn’t have all of the maps for the detour.

Then, all of a sudden, this bear ripped through our tent. I think that was one of the hardest.

MP: Did the bear do any damage?

SML: He was looking for something to eat.

MP: Did he find anything?

SML: Well, he didn’t eat us!

MP: That’s good!

SML: But he wanted to. He definitely ripped through our tent. It’s a bit of a long story, but my brother jumped outside with a camp shovel and smacked him in the face. He tried to fend him off while I was able to grab the gun. Luckily, I put the bullets just over his head, and he was convinced to slowly wander away. Then, we saw five more bears in the next 12 hours. We definitely didn’t sleep much that night.

Pause for the dance of northern lights during Sarah and Eric’s grueling, three-month ski/kayak across the Northwest Passage. Photo: Sarah McNair-Landry

MP: Did you keep seeing bears, or was that just one day, when you saw all the bears?

SML: Then, it mellowed out. We would see tracks and signs of them, but it was just that day, where we saw a lot of bears, I guess.

MP: Instagram has changed the game, creating adventure influencers who stand on cliffs and looking beautiful and projecting this exploration lifestyle. And then, there’s someone like you, who truly does exploration. Does that whole Instagram influencer thing bug you?

SML: I don’t think it necessarily bugs me. I always wonder how they look so good, out in the outdoors, with perfect hair. It’s definitely not how I look when I’m outside.

MP: Would you say it is possible to make a living as a modern-day explorer?

SML: Like in any passion field, I make my living doing a lot of different things—through my own trips, through guiding, through film and photography, through some writing, which I think is true to most adventurers or explorers. A lot of people are doing talks, books, presentations, and film festivals. But yeah, I would say I’m still figuring it out.

MP: Do you still live in the tiny house?

SML: Yeah. The tiny house is in Idaho. Baffin is still my home, but we split our time. Boomer is from Idaho originally, so we split our time between Baffin and the Tetons.

“The tiny house is perfect. We can drag it anywhere and put it anywhere.”

MP: What the pros and cons are of living in a tiny house?

SML: For us, we just wanted something that we could afford and could build ourselves. And something that we never felt bad leaving. I don’t want to be tied down by a house and a mortgage, a lawn to mow, and all these responsibilities. So, the tiny house is perfect. We can drag it anywhere and put it anywhere. We can completely shut it down, when we leave, and then come back a couple months later.

It’s our perfect little base camp. We built it ourselves, so we don’t have a mortgage to pay. But you know, it’s tiny. At the moment, we have no running water. We just have solar power, so we’re totally off-grid. I call it a luxury house. Some people would call it “glamping.”

INTERESTED IN BOOKING SARAH MCNAIR-LANDRY TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

Connect with Sarah on Instagram and Facebook.

Want to be guided on journeys in the polar regions? Check out Sarah McNair-Landry’s travel outfitter, Northwind Expeditions: www.northwindsexpeditions.com

Go to Instagram and Facebook to learn more about Erik Boomer’s award-winning documentation of his adventures.

WILD BY NATURE: SWISS EXPLORER SARAH MARQUIS

“I get to the point where it is not me and nature: I am the wind, I am nature, and nature is me. I become nature. There is no identity anymore with my body. I become what is around me.” —Sarah Marquis

Interview by Mary Anne Potts

Photographs by Krystle Wright

To be an explorer you have to have persistence and the ability to think on your feet. No one embodies these traits quite like Swiss explorer Sarah Marquis. By taking very long exploratory walks, solo, in very remote places, she reconnects with nature, and, in a sense, she becomes one with nature. This is when Sarah elevates her abilities to survive in the wild.

I spoke with Sarah recently about the important role of persistence in her life, and also regarding some of the more challenging moments during her journeys--most recently, through the Tasman forest. With all her journeys combined, Sarah has circumnavigated the planet by foot.

—Mary Anne Potts, Writer at Large

MARY ANNE POTTS: You go places that are not well detailed on maps. How do you research where you are going when there is not a lot of information out there?

SARAH MARQUIS: I go on location, that is the only way. I talk to people. For my last expedition to Tasmania, I went to find some old fishermen and old bushmen, and I started to talk to them. It is an investigation first with the people on location. I go to historical sites, and I really try to figure out everything that happened from the past to today. Then I find the topographical map of the location in the right government office. After all of that, I come back home with all of the information. I also try to find books about the area from back in the day. I search in big, old libraries. There is no information online on the places I want to go.

MP: For your long walk from Siberia to Australia, did you also do a reconnaissance to figure out that route?

SM: Yes, I went everywhere. I found a contact in every country so that if shit happened, I could have a back up plan with someone who speaks English. I also have a satellite phone and a [GPS] tracker.

The most important thing is to go on location and sniff the air. Listen to the language. Eat the food. And breathe--breathe the culture. To understand the country, you have to understand the people and the language. A lot of times I learn the language. I learned Mongolian, for example.

MP: How many languages do you speak?

SM: Perfectly, four. But I speak a bit of Russian, a bit of Mongolian. Every country I pick up enough to have a 150-word conversation. It’s really important for me. If you don’t speak the language, that’s your first barrier to communicating with the people. You need to speak the language.

MP: Do you wait until after you have scouted the expedition to pitch your sponsors and media?

SM: I dream about it [the expedition]. Then I put it together as far as I can. Then I go on location. I come back and everything is set up. Then, when I am ready, and I know what I am talking about--I know the weather and the topography--then I go pitch the story. I don’t pitch a story when I don’t know what I am talking about. 

MP: What advice do you have for explorers who want to get their expeditions funded? 

SM: I always say, “If you can’t find funds, you are not going to be able to survive anyway.” It’s as simple as that. If you are not able to sell your [project] yourself, you are not going to be able to survive. This is the beginning of the expedition—it begins with the funds. No one is ever going to give you the money, you need to go get it. I actually pitch hundreds and hundreds of people before I find someone who actually is interested. I always take it as a challenge, and I always make my pitch better by adjusting to people’s reactions. It gives me the strength and the belief that I can go further and further. Things don’t fall into your arms, even for the best people and ideas. You need to find the right supporters. It is part of your job as an explorer to get money for your expeditions.

“With my first book, I told my family and friends, “I am going to write a book.” Nearly all of them said to me, ‘I know you can do so many things, but now you are talking about being a writer, are you serious? This is not possible.’ This was 2003. I never listened to those people.”

MP: Your latest book, I Woke Up the Tiger, is a bestseller in Europe, as have been all your other books. What advice do you have for people who want to write books—and then to get people to read them? 

SM: This was my seventh book. With my first book, I told my family and friends, “I am going to write a book.” Nearly all of them said to me, “I know you can do so many things, but now you are talking about being a writer, are you serious? This is not possible.”

This was 2003. I never listened to those people. I knew at that moment, after I finished my expedition across Australia, that I would write about this amazing connection with nature that we have as human beings. I would not take no for an answer. And my first book was a bestseller straight away.

MP: How did you get the word out?

SM: At the beginning I did not find any publisher. I asked people to order a book, then pay later. Then I had 30 days to deliver the book to them. So I asked the printer for 30 days to pay the bill. I had a very tight schedule to actually pay the printer. And it worked. I took my little car and went to every bookstore in Switzerland. I would have coffee with the people and say, “You’re going to love my book. I’m going to give you a minimum of three books.  And you have to pay now, no returns.” No one had gone door to door to have a coffee with them. So basically the success of today is based on that time I spent taking my books in my car to the booksellers. They know me, and they keep ordering my books.

There are no rules. The best thing to do is to believe in yourself and believe in your story. Don’t think anyone else can sell your book. Even if you have a publisher, you need to get dirty and sell your books yourself. You need to tell the booksellers why it is important. 

Sarah Marquis on her most recent journey in Tasmania.

MP: Do you actually make a profit off your books?

SM: Yes, I live off of my books. I am a bestselling author in 12 countries. Wild by Nature—that is the one available in English. The rest of the market is in Europe. 

MP: Do you think that social media is important to do as an explorer? 

“I train all the time, even when I’m not on an expedition. I have a really strict diet… You cannot eat ice cream and chips, this is not my diet plan. “

SM: I think it’s an amazing platform to reach people in all corners of the world where you would never be able to talk to them before and to share your story.  It’s really crucial to use social media to communicate. 

MP: You are gone for extensive amounts of time. How do you balance your expedition life with your home life, as well as the reverse? 

SM: It’s so mixed up. I train all the time, even when I’m not on an expedition. I have a really strict diet. My journey is based on my body, which is the tool that I’ve got to do this. I’ve been doing this for 25 years, so if I had not been looking after my body so much, I would not be able to do today what I need to do. My last expedition I had 35 kilograms on my back, which is a lot. You need to have proper training. You cannot eat ice cream and chips, this is not in my diet plan. 

 MP: I eat those every day! 

SM: You are terrible! But your body seems to know how to get rid of them. 

MP: You now live in a cabin in the Swiss Alps that you and your brother built. Why did you build it?

SM: I actually fell into a gorge in Tasmania, and I broke my shoulder. And, to make the story short, I walked for three days with a broken shoulder, then I got rescued. I stayed two weeks in the hospital. Then I was sick of it so I went walking again. When I finished the expedition, I came back to Switzerland. I went to my little brother and I said, “You know what, I am going to go crazy going to the physical therapist. We’re going to build a cabin.“ We worked like crazy for six months, and now I live at the top of a mountain in an amazing place in the woods.

I’ve got electricity and water. I just don’t have access with a car. So I have to walk. It’s about 30 minutes from a road, so it’s not too bad. It’s isolated enough. In Switzerland, you are never in the wild, you are always near a road. I have a big fireplace in the middle and that’s how I stay warm in the winter. 

I stayed the whole winter, writing the book, I Woke Up the Tiger—it is actually already published in French. This one has been doing especially good. It’s still in first rank after a month.

MP: So did you see the Tasmanian tiger? 

SM: You have to read the book! 

MP: I don’t read French….

SM: I am going to translate it. I am looking for a publisher for the English language edition of the book.

MP: What do you bring on expeditions that is not your typical outdoor gear?

SM: Over the years, a lot of the gear I made myself—all of my little secret weapons. I take a lot of survival kits. 

I always think, if I had to run, I cannot run with a 35-kilo backpack. Anticipation is the key to exploring. If you go thinking, we’ll see in the moment what happens, you are never going to come back. Anticipation is everything. I always think if shit happens—because it’s a fire, I fell, there is bear, or whatever—I have this little pouch with all these survival tricks in it. Then I can just take it and survive anything. It is the size of two hands.

“Over the years I’ve developed all these mental tools, and I discovered  how far we can go. Every time I think I am done and cannot go further—I feel like I’m up against this big wall—but then I find a door and I go to the next level.”

MP: Didn’t you use chopsticks to eat termites in Australia?

SM: I have tricks for each country, for each type of terrain. In Australia you know those wax strips for waxing legs, when you go somewhere where there are a lot of poisonous plants: If you brush against them the poison goes straight to your bloodstream. So the best way to take the [plant] hairs out is with those wax strips. I have developed those techniques over the years. Females have a lot to give to exploration!

I used my hygienic pad on my dog’s feet to cross the desert because there were all these painful plants on the ground and they get under your skin. I couldn’t protect his paws, so I duct-taped the pads to my dog’s feet and we crossed the desert. And he did just fine! If you don’t find what you need in the market you build it!

MP: What are some of your favorite plants for natural remedies?

SM: I use tea tree essential oil on my feet every night. It’s an anti-fungal, and it gives the skin strength. It makes the skin a little thicker. It helps avoid blisters, redness, or friction. When you cannot wash yourself for a long time, it is very good for your feet. You will not get infections.

MP: You probably have a new expedition you are thinking about?

SM: Yes.

MP: And you probably don’t want to tell anyone anything about it?

SM: [Laughs]

MP: How do you keep coming up with new things to do?

SM: I let myself breathe. It’s been a year since I came back from the last one and I wrote the book and did a massive promotion of it. Now I’m finally breathing. Then you have to have space between things. You need to leave your life. I never decide where I go--I always get inspiration from something. An idea. A picture. Then it grows inside me. It’s always a situation of synchronization.

MP: Why do you like to go by yourself?

SM: What really interests me is the relationship I have with nature. Over the years I’ve developed all these mental tools, and I discovered  how far we can go. Every time I think I am done and cannot go further--I feel like I’m up against this big wall--but then I find a door and I go to the next level. So by doing that alone, I put myself in this situation alone. If I am scared, I am scared alone. It’s different than if there were two. Then I face those feelings. This is the hard way. That is the only way--the hard way: There is no shortcut.

When you are alone, there is no escape. You need to deal with what is going on inside you. If you have the courage to do this, the first step is the hardest. Then you discover your capability. I only discovered it because I was alone. And silence is my friend. This is for me what I get out of nature. This is how I develop my understanding of nature. I get to the point where it is not me and nature: I am the wind, I am nature, and nature is me. I become nature. There is no identity anymore with my body. I become what is around me. 

MP: What is one of the greatest hardships you have faced on a journey and how did you get through it?

SM: I guess it is always the last one. I faced death on more than one occasion on this Tasmania expedition.

I was in the primary forest under the canopy where the old trees fall for no reason. The [forest] floor had a few levels of dense bush. I was moving two miles a day over 12 hours walking. It was like being trapped and waiting for the trees to fall. I realized I could die getting squashed under one of those musty trees.

“One night the tree fell near my tent and the ground shook. The ground gave way under my weight, and I fell into the ravine. I blacked out in the bottom of the gorge.”

One night the tree fell near my tent and the ground shook. The ground gave way under my weight, and I fell into the ravine. I blacked out in the bottom of the gorge. I woke up wet. My left side could not move. The timing is everything. Five more minutes in that freezing water and that would have been it. “ I could hear that voice in my head, “Sarah one step at a time.”

Hard passage through labyrinths of massive fallen trees and dense vegetation, often far above the forest floor, Sarah’s solo journey across the Tasman forest presented new challenges for this seasoned explorer.

I crawled out of the first section of this ravine with my broken shoulder. It was really bad. Three days later I managed to climb to the top of the mountain where I got rescued. It was all organized with my team remotely.

As soon as I got out of the gorge I knew something was wrong with my shoulder. We knew people with a chopper who could come get me. I could not reach the mountain soon enough. When I did get there, the pilot could not come because he had another appointment with his chopper. And the weather had been so bad that I could not use my solar charger, so I had limited battery life.

When things go wrong, the success of the expedition is in the details. It’s in the clear thinking you did before you left. Shit happens really quickly if you are not ready. So in preparation for the expedition you need to have an evacuation plan for every country you are going to be in. You really need to have your contacts right. This is why you need to go beforehand to figure all that out. 

INTERESTED IN BOOKING SARAH MARQUIS TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US..

Connect with Sarah Marquis on Instagram and Facebook.

Australian photographer Krystle Wright has accompanied Sarah Marquis for brief segments on several of her expeditions. You can learn more about Krystle and her work at krystlewright.com.  

FLASH CHAT: DR. KENNY BROAD

Kenny Broad, with his wife, Amy Clement, in New York City. Photo: Kenny Broad Collection

Interview by Rebecca Martin

The work of Dr. Kenny Broad, one of the world’s leading explorers, is driven by a deep passion for understanding human-environment relationships. His series of cave diving expeditions into the Bahamas Blue Holes with longtime exploration partner and acclaimed underwater photographer, Wes Skiles, were featured in a stunning National Geographic cover story in August 2010, which some have referred to as true “inner space” exploration. In recognition of this multidisciplinary scientific project, Broad and Skiles (posthumously) were named 2011 National Geographic Explorers of the Year.

As Director of the Abess Center for Ecosystem Science and Policy at the University of Miami, Broad launched the university’s Exploration Science graduate program. In addition, he leads and joins expeditions globally throughout the year, often collaborating with scientists from a diverse range of disciplines.  

I  caught up with Kenny briefly between his back-to-back travel this spring, which included doing 3D mapping projects in caves in South Africa—where Homo naledi was discovered—and in the Mt. Everest region with Virtual Wonders, LLC., the company he founded with fellow explorers. 

—Rebecca Martin, President/Exploration Connections

REBECCA MARTIN:  Your accomplishments are highly notable as both an environmental anthropologist and through your many years of cave diving exploration, in addition to being an exceptional educator.  What was the starting point for the path you’ve taken professionally? Was there a particular moment of influence in your early life that was the springboard into this “line of work” you’ve chosen?  Or perhaps there were several influencers?

KENNY BROAD:  I really have no clue how I ended up doing what I do—and no idea what may be next—other than some inbred, genetic defect that makes me uncomfortable when I’m comfortable, so I’m drawn to new experiences. Eventually, I learned that sharing those experiences in formal and informal settings was very fulfilling.

RM:  It’s not entirely uncommon that an explorer as active in the field as yourself has a life partner who assists with their work. In your case, you are married to another accomplished scientist, Amy Clement, who studies atmospheric and marine science to model climate change.  How have you managed to find balance between two incredibly demanding careers that require a fair amount of field and travel time, while also raising your two sons?

“According to Amy, the only thing worse than me being gone is when I’m around too much…”

KB:  According to Amy, the only thing worse than me being gone is when I’m around too much…  She travels a lot, too, though we’re both trying to reduce our [carbon] footprints. It takes some coordinating with kids, and I try not to be gone more than a few weeks at a time—not because the family misses me, but vice versa.

RM:  Were you ever sidetracked on your career path, and, if so, were these experiences valuable to your work?

KB:  It’s been one big sidetrack!

RM:  Have your exploration-based skills led to some unexpected opportunities?  

KB:  I think some core skills—EMT, technical diving, and flying helicopters—opened doors initially to get involved with projects, then the academic credentials gave me the space to develop my own dream projects.

RM: What was the impetus behind creating the Exploration Science program at the University of Miami, and how has the program evolved since you launched seven years ago?

KB: It was basically creating a program that could jumpstart the careers of scientists, communicators and explorers by formally studying aspects of exploration ranging from law and ethics to cutting edge technologies. Dr. Keene Haywood, exploration polymath, directs the program, and is always coming up with innovative classroom and field-based activities.

RM:  Obviously, in creating this special degree program, you believe that there is still much more to explore. How exactly do you see exploration evolving in the future?

“I think exploration is moving more in line with conservation and motivational goals… we can now go back to the same places and study them from a different perspective, with new sets of analytical and imaging tools. “

KB:  I think exploration is moving more in line with conservation and motivational goals, as environmental and social justice issues become increasingly critical. We can now go back to the same places and study them from a different perspective, with new sets of analytical and imaging tools.

RM:  It was Mother’s Day a week ago, which leads me to consider your mother. What does she think about your work and the quite complex and somewhat risky expeditions that you have led through the years?

KB:  My mom has developed a very keen ability to employ selective amnesia regarding some of my exploration exploits that have not gone well… I have put her through a lot and assume my kids will wreak vengeance on me. I also lie a lot about what I actually do.

RM:  What key advice would you offer to the new generation of explorers?

KB:  Don’t take my advice!

INTERESTED IN BOOKING DR. KENNY BROAD TO PRESENT AT YOUR EVENT? PLEASE CONTACT US.

For information about the Exploration Science graduate degree program at the University of Miami, visit: http://exploration.miami.edu. Connect with Dr. Kenny Broad on Instagram.